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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
EST Gee
Vocals
FOREVEROLLING
Programming
Flex On The Beat
Programming
Lil JT
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Aaron E Butler
Songwriter
George Stone III
Songwriter
Jeffrey Lynn Jones
Songwriter
Jeremiah Tesfaye
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
FOREVEROLLING
Producer
Flex On The Beat
Producer
Eric Fernandez
Mixing Engineer
Johngotitt
Recording Engineer
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Lil JT
Producer
Lyrics
When you rich like this, it ain't a bitch out here you can't get (It ain't a bitch out here you can't get)
Free lil' Jumpout Gang and them, hop out the yoly, chase him
(FOREVEROLLING)
How much for his case again? Tell his mama take his ten (Tell his mama take his ten)
Niggas broke in love, like laid up with a ho can make 'em bands
Baby mama tellin' hoes I ain't shit as if they give a damn (They don't give a fuck)
They know if they suck it good with the hands, they just might get a bag (Mwah)
Square business, I'm a business man, focus up and you'll get a chance (You'll get a chance)
It's your fault, you a type to crash, I'll pay for shit to get it split in half (I'll pay for shit to get it split in half)
Spin your block in the same car tomorrow, it just got different tags
Said they on my top, I said, "Back lap, I'm on the phone with Mad"
OG say it's love until you jammed, and then got half on half
We locked in in blood, so it's loyalty over love (It's loyalty over love)
That mean however it come, I'm a pussy if I run (Pussy if I run)
I'm that nigga 'cause we won, baby, do it 'til I come (Yeah)
Yeah, and I'ma buy you something quick with my lil' trickin' ass (With my lil' trickin' ass)
Still the same nigga, cash all over us, it's split in half
Dirty my pop, deuce and a half 'cause I be livin' fast (I be livin' fast)
Rockin' my thot until tomorrow 'cause all she do is nag
Tryna do the dash, them hollows hawked him down and did him bad
(Yeah, tryna do the dash, them hollows hawked him down and did him bad)
Somebody should've told him tighten up, he finna crash
(Somebody should've told him tighten up, he finna crash)
Yeah, 7.62s hit his whip, we call them engine enders
It's me, the road, a 'bow of crystal, ain't no codefendants (It ain't no codefendants)
Keep actin' like you like that, niggas trippin', they ain't stuffed no rentals
I'm too official, up my pistol 'fore I ever argue with you
Percocets, they itchin', sweatin' in these last few missions, I'm tryna get it finished (I'm tryna get it)
They don't got no honor, they role model sold truth to your honor
In a whip with a stick with my lil' partner, tryna catch a piñata
Came up short, I cut his cord, he tried, so I really don't mop him
Everyone in the slums, they show me love 'cause I deliver product
Turn one into three, then dish it out to a few different buyers
Bringin' food to the table, he the fake one, this Fendi designer
One car back behind him on the highway, I'm trailing my driver
Yeah, and I'ma buy you something quick with my lil' trickin' ass (With my lil' trickin' ass)
Still the same nigga, cash all over us, it's split in half
Dirty my pop, deuce and a half 'cause I be livin' fast (I be livin' fast)
Rockin' my thot until tomorrow 'cause all she do is nag
Tryna do the dash, them hollows hawked him down and did him bad
(Yeah, tryna do the dash, them hollows hawked him down and did him bad)
Somebody should've told him tighten up, he finna crash
(Somebody should've told him tighten up, he finna crash)
Writer(s): Aaron Butler, Jeffrey Lynn Jones Jr., Jeremiah Tesfaye, George A. Stone Iii
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