Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Vocals
Sauce Walka
Sauce Walka
Vocals
Juicy J
Juicy J
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Demond Price
Demond Price
Songwriter
Albert Mondane
Albert Mondane
Songwriter
Jordan Houston
Jordan Houston
Songwriter
Lloyd Brown II
Lloyd Brown II
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Juicy J
Juicy J
Producer
Crazy Mike
Crazy Mike
Producer
Demond Price
Demond Price
Executive Producer
rocky tran
rocky tran
Recording Engineer
B-Don
B-Don
Recording Engineer
Iceman Chamberlain
Iceman Chamberlain
Recording Engineer
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Mixing Engineer
Mark Christensen
Mark Christensen
Mastering Engineer
Jannique Heard
Jannique Heard
Creative Director
Crazymike
Crazymike
Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Big rings, two of those, Super Bowl, Super Bowl, yeah
Lot of money, lot of hoes, yeah, lot of money, lot of money, whoa
Big 40, ****, play with me, feelin' like I won the AFC
Lamb' truck to get from A to B, I'm still winnin' what they hate to see
Yeah, woo, got the .40 on the stage with me
Never lackin', ****, wait and see, never lackin', ****, play and see
[Verse 2]
Fuck her good, she wanna stay with me
But I could never be faithful to a bitch, I don't live my life faithfully
I'm only faithful to the cash, yeah, straight forward to the bag, uh
I don't wait for it, I don't ask
I'ma take all of it, I take all it, I'ma take off, I'm finna blast
Play my tape for them and they say, "Nah, the ****'s spazzed"
Got Spade pouring in a glass
All my bitches ratchet, they like drinkin' out the bottle
Bottle, bottle
All my bitches ratchet, they like drinkin' out the bottle
The bottle
[Verse 3]
Still on go, on mission, still keep a Draco with beam and extension
Still gon' air it if it's tension, told them I'm really like that, they ain't listen
Shoot it quick, I ain't missin', scope on the top of it, hit you from distance
I just won my division, championship rings on my fist glisten
[Verse 4]
Big rings, two of those, Super Bowl, Super Bowl, yeah
Lot of money, lot of hoes, yeah, lot of money, lot of money, whoa
Big 40, ****, play with me, feelin' like I won the AFC
Bulletproof truck to get from A to B, I'm really what you **** claim to be
[Verse 5]
Super Bowl ring, got the Rams stacked
Went Cooper Kupp, 'bout to cop me a big bag
Jugg Jalen Ramsey on the corner on a bitch back
Girl, I'm a P, I don't move pounds of nick sacks
Boy, take a Tic-Tac, talkin' that shit get you shit-bagged
Boy, you a slave with a chain, you got whiplash
Sippin' slow soda but still drive the whip fast
Name is Jerome but I Bettis won't hit back
[Verse 6]
Escalade bulletproof
Talkin' dog in a van, his name Scooby Doo
She got ass like a hippo up out the zoo
But she still gotta pay if she comin' through
Yeah, lil' mama a star and a comet too
She can fall out the sky and land in my coupe
Turning models to millions, it's nothing new
Baby girl bought me Prada, I'm proud of you
[Verse 7]
Congratulations
Put her on stage, it's a graduation
Bitch, I'm the dean of the college and I'm glad you made it
Nowadays, rappers so fabricated
I got all the numbers in the books, I'm the yellow papers
Showtime at the Ritz, yeah, Gervonta
I done got rich off the streets with the Conway
I'm from the home of the queen, that's Beyonce
But I done seen Destiny's Child die from gunplay
[Verse 8]
Big rings, two of those, Super Bowl, Super Bowl, yeah
Lot of money, lot of hoes, yeah, lot of money, lot of money, whoa
Big 40, ****, play with me, feelin' like I won the AFC
Bulletproof truck to get from A to B, I'm really what you **** claim to be
[Verse 9]
Juice havin' motion, don't get mad
Just like groceries, your ho get bagged
Young wild **** wanna smoke shit bad
Any disrespect then the toe get tagged
Still ain't retired, guess I ain't finish yet
I got more rings than Brady, I get a check
BBL look deflated like Belichick
No back and forth with a ho, I don't get in that
Still rolling loud, way before the concert
Trick on a bitch, I'd rather die first
Pockets fat like Chuck, no Converse
White ho, Black ho, gotta keep it diverse
[Verse 10]
Pimpin' ain't dead, gotta try it first
Anything ratchet is my verse
She want me to put my meat on the grill
She gon' eat the dick up like a bratwurst
Bitch, you can pull your pants up
Who told you we was finna fuck? I want top first
Hollywood address, all types of access
But I had to get it off the block first
Pretty bitch in my bed, paint the city red
Paint the same color on the opps' shirt
If you ain't finna gag on the tip and make your eyes water up
This dick will not work
[Verse 11]
It won't work, you know what I'm saying?
Shut the fuck up
[Verse 12]
Big rings, two of those, Super Bowl, Super Bowl, yeah
Lot of money, lot of hoes, yeah, lot of money, lot of money, whoa
Big 40, ****, play with me, feelin' like I won the AFC
Bulletproof truck to get from A to B, I'm really what you **** claim to be
Written by: Albert Mondane, Demond Price, Jordan Houston
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