Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
42 Dugg
Vocals
Lil Baby
Vocals
Peewee Longway
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quincy Lamont Williams
Songwriter
Aaron Butler
Songwriter
Dion Hayes
Songwriter
Dominique Jones
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Flex
Producer
Leo Goff
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Free them boys
You feel me? Ay
75 the whole way, we gon' break it down and sell it
I got - eatin' trash, really waitin' on me to mail it
I got (ay), ay, I got pictures, I got -
Send my youngin on a mission (Flex on the Beat, ni-)
Oh, that's your cousin? He a witness (rat)
Shoulda told him mind his bidness
Once he's on the floor, we gon' send him to the ceilin'
28 a bow, you can smell it when they seal it
Since you - cappin', I'ma show you how to peel it
Definition of wild - (ay), I'm all in the crowd with it (ay)
Reach for this chain, my - lettin' the crowd feel it (bah-bah)
We 'bout bidness, throw a couple in his mama, we ain't got feelings
My - fightin' the feds, but he is not finished (at all)
I told him take 'em to the door
We can't move 'em in the city, I'ma take 'em to the O
Told my - ain't no favors, you can make them lil' pros (ay)
Doggy, all I see is red, but we is not Blood
We ain't puttin' on your head, that is not us
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done got one
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done dropped somethin'
The agent like the truck, we crack a - like a pint of lean
Draco with the monkey nuts'll flip you like a trampoline (brrt)
Kidney full of Maybelline, Amiri drippin', a murder scene
Used to cook up that Charlie Sheen, .223 like Alamine
Lights out, white chalk, that stick sound like a Trackhawk
Hah, hah, hah, hah, walk up and do face shots
Bring the yellow tape out, mash on your tater
I put mass all on beta, now I got bags on the equator
Runtz, purple Laker, 500 comin', pray to God, hope it make it (pray)
Just wrapped up five diamonds, hope it's gone, 'cause I'ma take it
Mama tell me, "Son, every day I hope you make it"
Mama tell me, "Son, every day I hope you make it"
Doggy, all I see is red, but we is not Blood
We ain't puttin' on your head, that is not us
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done got one
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done dropped somethin'
Doggy, all I see is red, but we is not Blood
We ain't puttin' on your head, that is not us
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done got one
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done dropped somethin'
Ay, where that money at? Pulled up where it's 'posed to be
All these bags in the spot but ain't no groceries (ain't no groceries)
Ain't put no tints on none of my cars, opps, they know it's me (they know it's me)
I was raised up by my mom, but ain't no h- in me (no h- in me)
Runnin' out the spot, tear the bush up, comin' down the street
Grab the money, leave the weed, they find it, they can keep it
Catch a body, you know the code, just keep that - a secret
Swear to God we'll wipe his nose, we ever catch him leakin'
They hit my right hand with that charge, it left my heart in pieces
Flood my right hand with baguettes, I wear the flawless pieces
In my bag, I'm talkin' to 'em, it's like I'm really preachin'
'Bout to go and buy a church and make the bros the deacons
Doggy, all I see is red, but we is not Blood
We ain't puttin' on your head, that is not us
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done got one
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done dropped somethin'
Doggy, all I see is red, but we is not Blood
We ain't puttin' on your head, that is not us
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done got one
Once my - shaved them dreads, he done dropped somethin'
Writer(s): Dominque Jones, Quincy Williams, Dion Hayes, Aaron Butler
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