Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
G Herbo
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Joshua Luellen
Composer
Herbert R Wright
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Southside
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
I was in a slump
Ever since I lost my brother, I've been getting drunk
Slowly crawling out the hump, shit got me fucked up, mentally
Any **** play with me I dump, physically
Everywhere I be we keep a couple glocks tucked
I ain't hard to see I'm in that double-R truck
I can't lie, I got a lot of money, ton of money
Stackin' money, I don't walk to money, run to money
Money callin', bitch I go to money, come to money
Money Fallin', I got Winter money, Summer money
Uh oh, woke up spent a hundo
Still don't give a fuck though
Clips with hunchos, Glocks with switches get a bunch of 'em
Had them killas touch on 'em, like they got a crush on 'em
We get **** headshots, never put a crutch on 'em
Like the gear, I clutch on it
We could wait to buss on 'em
Took years, he had luck though, but fuck, buddy, he cutthroat
Me and foenem cut throats
We ain't waitin' on no get backs so his bro 'n 'em must go
Run up hittin', really with that, we make **** drop poles
Man, shout out to the hoes, we make bitches drop lows
And they texting lock codes
He a hoe, his Glock cold
Finger twitchin' when I tote, fire itchin' in my coat
I'ma say it and I quote, "I can't wait for gun smoke"
In them trenches, I'm a goat, like my mama fuck goats
I can't sleep I stay woke
Solid, I'm forever woke, dreamin' like I'm never woke, got knowledge I'm forever woke
Setbacks but I got better though, the realest shit I never wrote
I'm crazy but I'm clever, though, they came to me, I never spoke
Gang shit, I'm claimin' it
Get angry, I'm dangerous
Don't run, I got range
This shit change me when I'm aiming it
120 in 2 lanes
Swervo can't be in no Wrangler
200 on 2 chains when they hang and they tanglin'
I hustle all day, I come from hallways slangin' it
You hop out broad day, fuck with you the long way, rectangular
This shit ain't hard, man, my opps be sittin' ducks, danglin'
We tint trucks daily
At least ten of us, we keep our fingers twisted up, bangin'
You ain't on shit, what? Pussy be cliqued up
Don't give no fuck, yo clique sus'
Don't put 'em against us
Don't leave **** stiff on the fence, stuck
Forgive me, again, for my sins
Many men fall victim of this fin cause they friends
I need a cleanse, I need a rinse
Blew his fuckin' brains out, ain't make no sense
Throwin B's up, we swarm shit, on cap
I love revenge, that's a warm dish, no bap
Written by: Herbert R Wright, Joshua Luellen