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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Performer
Benny the Butcher
Benny the Butcher
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Demond Price
Demond Price
Songwriter
Jeremine Pennick
Jeremine Pennick
Songwriter
Justin Harrell
Justin Harrell
Songwriter
ben poupore
ben poupore
Songwriter
Lloyd Brown II
Lloyd Brown II
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Graymatter
Graymatter
Producer
Demond Price
Demond Price
Executive Producer
rocky tran
rocky tran
Recording Engineer
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Sonny "Carson" Tudeme
Mixing Engineer
Mark Christensen
Mark Christensen
Mastering Engineer
Jannique Heard
Jannique Heard
Creative Director

Lyrics

Woo (woo) Woo (woo) Don't minimize my grind I've been on killin' time since the minute that I signed You ain't findin' these kicks, these shits is limited design My mom pickin' decor for the interior design (get the house right) Look, we about ownin' properties, how it got to be Too many shot, deceased Then they moms gotta sell dinners when they die, like (tss) That's the atrocity (it's fucked up) Take your trap money, buy back the hood, that's my philosophy (uh-huh) But niggas be speedin' through life, high velocity I'm in a drop, two-seater, bitch with me lookin' like Jocelyn I'm askin' God to please Kehlani me (haha) Let me take her on shoppin' spree Niggas ain't flyer than me and can't fuck with me sonically (talk to 'em) These new rap niggas my sons, I'm feelin' fatherly (uh-huh) Respected more than your father, boy, you should honor me (woo) Well, fuck your father, I would take my razor to his face And leave the scars shaped like an apostrophe Look, Machine back, the nigga they can't fuck with I'm just gettin' in my groove, I'm really just gettin' adjusted (I'm gettin' in my bag) Look, I mixed the soda with the yola and I fluffed it (whip) Cooked my first quarter brick, and fucked it up 'cause I rushed it (swear to God) Ah, two ounces bagged up in 20s, I'm disgusted When Neiman and Johnnie Walker raided the spot, I flushed it (Taliban) Niggas talkin' all this rich shit and all this tough shit That bitch you puttin' babies in, nigga, I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole Bought me a Benz to stroll (ah), neck full of expensive gold (ah) Wrist got presidential Role' (ah), Bottega on my bitch's toe (woo) Uh, Bentayga when she hit the road, got paper and that bitch is cold I'm basically a different zone Drug money (drug money) Drug money (talk to 'em) Them bitches love niggas with drug money (drug money) Fuck on her good, then she can't get a hug from me The bitches love niggas with drug money, yeah (drug money) Drug money (uh), drug money (real shit though) Them bitches love niggas with drug money (Neiman and Johnny Walker) Niggas postin' pics on the 'Gram with the plug money (raided my shit twice) So niggas kick down your door for yo' drug money, yeah (The Butcher comin', nigga) I'm tryna be careful 'bout what I say on this Ain't talkin' food when I say Filet-O-Fish, that's a yayo dish Get with me, bills crispy, straight from the bank with it, nigga Countin' sound like openin' bags of potato chips Fuck these funny artisans know about money launderin'? Price is so low, other hustlers hope I get caught again I'm in my hood, fuckin' around with my homie, arguin' 'Bout who sold more, if it's him (shit), 'least I taught him it Peddle cocaine, Mexican grade, then I stepped on mine (I did) We the same, except for I am secure as the FOI (ah) I can detect a spy (I can), they tryna connect the guys (for real) To the corner we fed with pies, the word is I bled it dry My old motto was, "If she wanna spend, she gotta help trap" But puttin' my bitch in harm's way, it wasn't no sense in that (uh-uh) 'Cause I need her to have my back in case somebody else cracked I let her spend all these racks, but remind her that I'm the catch These bricks that I'm handlin' and these shifts that I'm managin' Made me and my friends famous like Jennifer Aniston (let's go) It's gon' take drug money to keep her especially (ah) She either Ginger Rothstein or Keisha from Belly, let's go Drug money (drug money), drug money (talk to 'em) Them bitches love niggas with drug money ('kay) Fuck on her good, then she can't get a hug from me The bitches love niggas with drug money, yeah (drug money) Drug money (drug money), drug money (drug money) Them bitches love niggas with drug money (drug money) Niggas postin' pics on the 'Gram with the plug money (ah) So niggas kick down your door for yo' drug money, yeah Ayo, these hoes meet you and have a field day She got you saved in her phone under, "Bill pay" I watch sports on a chill day Cop bricks by the Staples Center but send 'em where the Bills play Don't trust hoes 'cause they will stray Fuck a bitch, this blue steel tray is my real bae You gon' need somethin' that kill pain I bring a five hundred judge to a fight like it's Mills Lane I don't treat a hoe great, I treat a hoe fair If you treat a hoe great, then she won't care Take a hoe on a date, bitch, I won't dare Might get a to-go plate, we can both share King of the streets, I did the most here Set the city on fire, build an empire before the smoke clear Yeah, I just hit a big weight robbery Gamble with life like it's the quick-play lottery I give space and privacy Nigga, I could teach a class 'bout bars and call it mixtapeology A bitch can't lie to me I only let her take dick, you let the bitch dictate policy Trust Drug money Drug money (trust) Drug money (trust) Drug money
Writer(s): Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Justin Christopher Harrell, Demond Price, Ben Philip Poupore Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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