Music Video
1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Ghostface Killah, Rich Brian, Smino, Surprise Chef - SPIKY BOiz
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
Rich Brian
Vocals
Smino
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andrew Congues
Songwriter
Brian Imanuel
Songwriter
Carl Lindeberg
Songwriter
Christopher Smith Jr.
Songwriter
Dennis David Cole
Songwriter
Jethro Curtin
Songwriter
Lachlan Stuckey
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Smino
Recording Engineer
Elton "L10" Chueng
Mastering Engineer
Robert Mendioro
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Surprise Chef
Producer
Daniel Vargas
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Intro]
Bitch, I do my dance at 99 Ranch
[Verse 1]
Yeah, yo, uh-huh, yeah, yo
A metaphorical wizard, a metaphorical blizzard
These metaphors is better off cuffed and locked in a prison
Ain't any bodies can take on antibiotics
Anybody can be a body or be a homi' in the wrong position
Diagnostic, I'm so high, fly on a higher octave
Toxic, eyes wide staring at the apocalypse
Sippin' from pearl goblets, with gold droplets
The cover that I write in my tablet is all ostrich
Songs of elegant psalms that I call my hostage
Harmonica plays with a xylophone and pays homage
Exposing fake theories in the quantum physics
Jails with more blood on the floor than a Compton visit
That's why I play in the clubs, lotta girls and thugs
Wu-Tang, thought I was a kid the way I play with plugs
Don't underestimate the power, instead you should bless the cape
Barbershop talk, ask around, I'm in the best of baits
[Verse 2]
Damn, heard you still calling a deal
Your A&R went AWOL so you ain't driving for real
Man down, spent your whole budget on cribs in the hills
And called it work but nothing to show but a bitch
You crashed out cold, bossa nova and pill
Those clothes are from hoes that dispose you to thrift at the Real, that how I get it
Going hard to dine in the yard with all the Afrobeat broads, you don't ever record
I made a sacrifice around the time I couldn't afford a sack of rice
So when I got it, blowing it like a saxophone with bad advice
A tragic life to live, where false perception get your hoes excited
Plus you sold the rights to all your writers, spent it all on ice, and
No cake with all that icing
What you gon' do next? Pawn shop pricing
Rich song 'cause my dick long and they drive crash
Tired of you ****, on ya neck, I'm on your ascot
Proud of my ****, he got out and kept his nose clean
Hold my brother down, I'm standing ten until my toes sting
Pretty girl, PG county got me in a choke, I mean
If she on my mind, she ain't just fine, she the dopamine
ISSI on my body, call it Amy 'cause ain't I?
Can't get on my plane so they complaining, they ain't fly
Hate because their money ain't straight, pockets gay, huh?
Fake it till they make it, **** AI, fuck it
[Bridge]
Shrooms, drugs
Tell 'em Zero gang in the club
Tell 'em Wu-Tang in the club
Lemonade chain, pucker up
This world corrupt
But that don't mean shit, I fuck it up
Just tell me where we meeting, **** floor it
Bitch couldn't believe it was us
This world corrupt
But that don't mean shit, I fuck it up
Tell 'em Zero gang in the club
Tell 'em Wu-Tang in the club
[Verse 3]
Aye, lil' baby so magnetic like a door stop
Tipsy off the 4th shot, fuck a happy end, I'm not the one to plot against
Pissin' off the D.O.P, I'm never switchin' for the lens
You be rappin' for the hoes, I'm a steadfast
Never change the vision for these lame ass
Y'all be gettin' baked but I'm just posted where the cake at
Batter, batter, batter, gunnin' for that four letter
Is it milli or the mammal? Your pocket in need of scandal
My pocket is safe, I got no fear in my heart, I'm paid in the land of the brave
She don't ever dress up but except when she go to the rave
Rappers never rappin' on the beat 'less it's drownin' in bass
But move in your pace
I paint a picture, you just spreadin' a propaganda
Rocket been takin' off and she gave me a proper landing
I went through hell and back and still never sniffin' no dandruff
I don't got all my answers, you livin' off advances
And you takin' pride in the gimmick, uh
Only for the paper will I fly into the premise
Fashion nova love you 'cause your album full of fillers
The hype done got you gassed, your fans decreasin' when it simmers
But it's not my business
Written by: Andrew Congues, Brian Imanuel, Carl Lindeberg, Christopher Smith, Christopher Smith Jr., Dennis David Cole, Jethro Curtin, Lachlan Stuckey
