Top Songs By 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Busta Rhymes
Vocals
Smino
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christopher Smith Jr.
Songwriter
Michael Edward Neil
Songwriter
Trevor Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Euglen Tanci
Recording Engineer
Smino
Recording Engineer
Elton "L10" Chueng
Mastering Engineer
Phoelix
Producer
Daniel Vargas
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Robert Mendioro
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Brad Ritchie
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
[Chorus]
Okay, uh-huh, let's get it
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
The cook up look like Thanksgiving
The flower rolled up, get fried, count chicken
Phenomenal bitch, greased up
Coconut oil on her neck, back, legs, thighs, ass, titties
[Verse 1]
The briefcase stuffed up, straight business today
I got to pull up on MoTown with new tape
I'm 'bouta boot up my hometown, himalous package
Pussy got backspaced, I deleted the mattress
Tight like cuddling in a Cullinan
Shawty gave me cunniling, couldn't believe it
Lil' bussdown, call her my shuttle queen
Told me she do anything and I'ma need it
[Verse 2]
I had a thought, I had a thought, another light bulb
The reason it's raw is 'cause I cooked it with my eye closed
The Louis Vuitton be my pajama, they my night clothes
Me and my brothers, we stick together like a group home
Brand new Pirelli's, I ride around looking for new hoes
She told me nail it, lucky for her I gotta hammer-hammer
And when bam her, they hear sound way out in Alabama, ****, I'm talented
[Chorus]
Okay, uh-huh, let's get it
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
The cook up look like Thanksgiving
The flower rolled up, get fried, count chicken
Phenomenal bitch, greased up
Coconut oil on her neck, back, legs, thighs, ass, titties
[Verse 3]
Now I'm taking over everything like that's my calling
Wake up in pussy like beautiful Sunday mornings
Sunday mornings
Now we swimming in the money, like a line of dolphins
Line of dolphins
Prepare for the killing, please line up the coffins
Think we playing, motherfucker?
Y'all **** really think shit funny
Pop you in yo' shit, brother
Y'all **** better make room for the money
Y'all already know when I pull up, I'm coming and I'm shaking the building or something
Y'all ****'ll pull up, and y'all really be faking and fronting
Throw a hood up you ain't from and get your life taken for nothing
That's something you should've thought about like replacing a button
And coming and pressing all you **** in case you was stunting
And shutting up everything because all my ****, we loving to fuck up your food
Because my **** is greedy and glutton
Skip to my new while I hop diddy bop and I drop on you ****
Drop on you ****
Fuck that flow I be shitting while I take it to the top on these ****
To the top on these ****
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, now you all sound alike, little ****
Alike, little ****
But when I do it, yes, I finesse it a little, now I got it on lock, little ****
On lock, ****
Bitch, I give you new brand shit
New brand shit
Tell me, what the fuck you wan do?
What the fuck you wan do?
And I'ma give you boom bap shit
Boom bap shit
You ain't know we do this too?
You better get to fucking with the realest side
You against us if you ain't with us, ****
I suggest you **** better run and hide
'Cause nothing else matter till we finish, ****
[Chorus]
Okay, uh-huh, let's get it
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
She love to get drunk, take off her feelings
The cook up look like Thanksgiving
The flower rolled up, get fried, count chicken
Phenomenal bitch, greased up
Coconut oil on her neck, back, legs, thighs, ass, titties
Written by: Christopher Smith, Christopher Smith Jr., Michael Edward Neil, Trevor Smith