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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Young Nudy
Young Nudy
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quantavious T. Thomas
Quantavious T. Thomas
Songwriter
Ahmar Bailey
Ahmar Bailey
Songwriter
Ozan Yildirim
Ozan Yildirim
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kid Hazel
Kid Hazel
Producer
OZ
OZ
Producer
Mike Bozzi
Mike Bozzi
Mastering Engineer
Richard Huredia
Richard Huredia
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Uh
[Verse 2]
Can you forgive me for my sins? (Yeah)
I shot a lot of ****, not pretend (Not pretend)
I don't fake ****, I don't need friends (I don't need friends)
I shoot a pussy **** at the fuckin' end (At the fuckin' end)
End of the gun lyin' a bitch **** (It's a bitch ****)
At the end of that trigger is a rich **** (Yeah, I'm up now)
Don't show no love, got a cold heart (Got that cold heart)
Shoot you in your face, I show you you ain't hard (You ain't hard)
[Verse 3]
I heard a lotta **** say that they up, huh? (They up)
You know Slimeball, he don't give a fuck, yeah (Know Slimeball, he don't give a fuck)
I be up in my fuckin' own lane (I be up in my own lane)
You come up in my lane, I put you in the dummy lane (Dummy lane)
Crash dummy (Yeah) Crash ****
I got young **** that pull up, they'll smash, **** (Smash)
You got ten thousand to your name, that ain't no money, **** (That ain't no money, ****)
I put two thousand on your head, my shooters comin', **** (My shooters comin', ****)
They love money, ****, youngin love dumpin', **** (Uh-huh)
I got young ****, they got that high fever (High fever)
Got that fever on this side, better believe, bruh (Better believe, bruh)
Got that gun on his side, he gon' squeeze, bruh (He gon' squeeze, bruh)
How a **** duck and hide when he see us (When he see us, pussies, uh-huh)
They don't wanna be bruh (Nah)
When it come to money, man, I know that they don't see us (They don't wanna see us)
We gettin' to money, dawg, these **** don't wanna be broke (They don't wanna be broke)
They don't wanna be broke (Uh-uh)
Y'all **** better believe, bruh (Better believe, bruh)
Them **** killin' shit, yeah, over here, **** (Over here, ****)
East Atlanta, you know we don't have no fear, **** (The six)
Nothin' but rich **** 'round here, we'll get your ass killed, **** (Yeah)
Uh-huh (Shh, uh-huh)
[Verse 4]
Can you forgive me for my sins? (Yeah)
I shot a lot of ****, not pretend (Not pretend)
I don't fake ****, I don't need friends (I don't need 'em)
I shoot a pussy **** at the fuckin' end (Pussy)
End of the gun lyin' a bitch **** (It's a bitch ****)
At the end of that trigger is a rich **** (Yeah, I'm up now)
Don't show no love, got a cold heart (Got that cold heart)
Shoot you in your face, I show you you ain't hard (You ain't hard)
[Verse 5]
We don't do that fake rap shit, real trap shit (Yeah)
We don't do that fake beef shit, we make shit happen (We make shit happen)
**** gettin' really wrapped up, no rap shit (No rap shit)
'Round here, you better tote the gun, ****, clap shit (****, clap shit)
Young **** seventeen, Glock 19 (Young ****)
And it got a red beam and he got that red bandana 'round his head
Murder always on his mind
And he bangin' two guns, murder all the time (Murder)
Smoke somethin' (Smoke somethin')
Young ****, roll up (Young ****, roll up)
On the block where they post up (Hot block)
J out here geekin', doin' a hold-up, uh-huh (Doin' a hold-up, hold-up)
Tell your bitch to hold up (Hold up)
I'm gettin' some money right now, bitch, I don't wanna fuck (I don't wanna fuck)
Catch me later on that Perc', I be geeked up (Geekin')
Out my mind, yeah, bitch, I'ma beat you up, (Beat you up, yeah)
Bring a freak to the spot, you can eat her up (You can eat her up), uh-huh
Hoes do what you do when you tell 'em to 'cause you're up
Ooh, that what's up (That's what's up)
Found out when I got that money when I got up (I got up)
[Verse 6]
Can you forgive me for my sins? (Yeah)
I shot a lot of ****, not pretend (Yeah)
I don't fake ****, I don't need friends (I don't need friends)
I shoot a pussy **** at the fuckin' end (Pussy)
End of the gun lyin' a bitch **** (It's a bitch ****)
At the end of that trigger is a rich **** (I'm up now)
Don't show no love, got a cold heart (Got that cold heart)
Shoot you in your face, I show you you ain't hard (You ain't hard)
[Verse 7]
Haha
Knock that clip in with the bread
Written by: Ahmar Bailey, Ozan Yildirim, Quantavious T. Thomas
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