Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Killer Mike
Killer Mike
Vocals
Key Glock
Key Glock
Vocals
Project Pat
Project Pat
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Michael Render
Michael Render
Songwriter
Paul D Beauregard
Paul D Beauregard
Songwriter
Tim Moore
Tim Moore
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Twhy Xclusive
Twhy Xclusive
Producer
Cuz Lightyear
Cuz Lightyear
Recording Engineer
Wil Anspach
Wil Anspach
Recording Engineer
PEEZYMANE
PEEZYMANE
Engineer
Jermaine Johnson
Jermaine Johnson
Engineer
Nicolas De Porcel
Nicolas De Porcel
Mastering Engineer
DAVID YUNGIN KIM
DAVID YUNGIN KIM
Mixing Engineer
Paul D Beauregard
Paul D Beauregard
Producer
Demitrius Lewis II
Demitrius Lewis II
Mastering Engineer
Tanner Ott
Tanner Ott
Recording Engineer

Lyrics

All the player haters who Been talkin' that shit (South Memphis' finest) All the, all the player haters Who been talkin' that shit Glizock Niggas cappin' rappin' All that broke ass shit (Yeah) I never beefed about a Ho 'cause that's some Ho-ass shit (Yeah) I'm never lackin', never Catch me with a broke-ass bitch (Never) They call me, "Glock" And I keep one You should know that shit (Let's go) I got this other nigga bitch Tryna throat my dick I took a look in the mirror and said "Stay on your shit" I took a look in the mirror and said "Stay on your grind" Yeah, I be ballin' on these Fuck niggas all the time Can't chase a bitch 'cause I'm Chasin' dollar signs (Dollar signs) Got twelve whips and all twelve them bitches mine (Bitches mine) Got twelve whips and ain't none them bitches leased (Ain't none them bitches leased) I'm sippin' Texas Rest in peace to Pimp C (Pimp C) This for all you, this for all you This for all you This for all you player haters Who be talkin' that shit (Talkin' that shit) This for all you, this for all you This for all you (Ayy, ayy, ayy) This for all you player haters Who be talkin' that shit (Ayy, ayy, ayy) Dedicated to you pussy niggas Bitches with ya Doctor jammin', mister, mister You still a nigga and you a niggress Actin' like you gon' be master Mistress Bad-mouthin' on a Black man I hear went in And I don't know what you Think this is, but bitch, this pimpin' You gon' respect me like the Democrats do big Clinton You gon' respect me like a Motherfuckin' Grammy winner Like I cooked your favorite rapper Like a granny dinner (Yeah) I been looked at, I been followed I been suspected (Yeah) Used and abused, I been accused Bitch, I been arrested And if a nigga know some secrets Bitch, I ain't tellin' I finally get it, all my haters They was just jealous They wrote they papers Gave they speeches No one gave a fuck I walk in a room and smile And applause erupts Fuck you, fuckin' pussy, fuck you I would hate me too 'Cause you ain't never seen a Nigga do the shit I do That take that street shit and that scholarship, and run a mall I'm in attendance at the player's And the mayor's ball
Writer(s): Paul Beauregard, Michael Render, Tim Moore Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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