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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
NLE Choppa
Vocals
Fivio Foreign
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bryon Potts
Songwriter
Ferdinand Media
Songwriter
Maxie Lee Ryles III
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
NLE Choppa
Co-Producer
Mike Seaberg
Mixing Engineer
Tiernan Cranny
Mastering Engineer
Jaycen Joshua
Mixing Engineer
Madenka
Producer
Aaron Mattes
Recording Engineer
DJ Riggins
Assistant Engineer
Jacob Richards
Assistant Engineer
Rachel Blum
Assistant Engineer
Lyrics
Ayy, MADENKA, I think that's the one, you know
Na, na, na, na
Na, na, na
Dope (dope, dope)
Money (money, money)
Green (green, green)
Na, na, na, na
Cold (cold) (uh, yeah)
Money (money) (uh, yuh)
Clean it
Na, na, na
Niggas'll kill you for what you believe in
I bought a new .40 for no reason
It's getting cold, so it's coming to season
He caught a body, he comin' through cheesin'
We ain't with none of the crying and grieving
You know that my shooters is dying to see 'em
Niggas can't find him he hidin' we seekin'
He in the city he dying this weekend
I took a percocet, it keep me calm
None of them niggas is doing me harm
None of my bitches is doing me wrong
I keep a smile, I ain't losing my charm
I know the feds listen to this music
So I never say what I do in these songs
He send the addy, we pull up, he gone
Up close, so I ain't shotting from long
Dope (dope, dope)
Money (money, money)
Green (green, green)
Na, na, na, na
Cold (cold) (uh, yeah)
Money (money) (uh, yuh)
Clean it
Na, na, na
Ayy, duffel bag for the money, what the business is?
All across the world, servin' different citizens
I'ma make shit stretch 'til the end of end
On my knees every night, but I'ma sin again
Sorry Lord, can't say I don't know better (I don't know better)
Big stepper, 'til my toes start hurtin' ('til my toes start hurtin')
Get him killed, then write him a murder letter
Few subliminals in my verses
Big chain on my neck finna break my neck
Need a brace for my neck, mm-hmm
Hoe brain with the best, I ain't feeling her sex
So her best friend next, mhmm (let's do it)
Call collect to charter jets
Then billboard charts happen next (we go)
Got the big flex on my ex
Hold it over her head 'till she meet her death (hoe hurtin')
Declined my calls and missed my text
I know them hoes regret
I'm numb on a hoe, I ain't feelin' 'her
He could be with the kid we gon' kill him (we gon' get em)
Get the drop, then you know I'm a sinner (brrt)
No tags on the whip, no rentals, ayy (grr)
Hop out, lemme see the feet work, nigga
We ain't finna shoot out no window (grr, grr)
Dope (dope, dope)
Money (money, money)
Green (green, green)
Na, na, na, na
Cold (cold) (uh, yeah)
Money (money) (uh, yuh)
Clean it
Na, na, na
Dope (dope, dope)
Money (money, money)
Green (green, green)
Na, na, na, na
Cold (cold) (uh, yeah)
Money (money) (uh, yuh)
Clean it
Na, na, na
Dope
Money
Green, na, na, na
Mm, na, na
Na, na, mm, na, na
Dope, mm, na, money, green, na, na
Writer(s): Maxie Lee Ryles Iii, Ferdinand Media, Bryon Potts
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