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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Big Sean
Vocals
Milan Beker
Keyboards
Rogét Chahayed
Keyboards
Terius Gesteelde-Diamant
Background Vocals
Eryn Allen Kane
Background Vocals
Isaac De Boni
Keyboards
Michael Mule
Keyboards
Jazmine Bailey
Background Vocals
George Lovett
Background Vocals
WilliE
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Teddy Walton
Songwriter
Aaron Booe
Songwriter
Emmanuel Nickerson
Songwriter
Enoch Rich Harris III
Songwriter
Welbon Morris Jr.
Songwriter
Myles Satterfield
Songwriter
Julian Harris
Songwriter
Markus Randle
Songwriter
Eric Bellinger
Songwriter
Jazz Cartier
Songwriter
Rogét Chahayed
Songwriter
Terius Gesteelde-Diamant
Songwriter
Michael Mule
Songwriter
Milan Beker
Songwriter
Isaac De Boni
Songwriter
Sean Michael Anderson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Big Sean
Producer
FNZ
Producer
Mano
Producer
Lil Rich
Producer
OG Webbie
Producer
Milan Beker
Recording Engineer
Myles T
Producer
Teddy Walton
Producer
Aaron Booe
Producer
Rogét Chahayed
Producer
Eryn Allen Kane
Vocal Producer
Julian Vasquez
Recording Engineer
Hayden Duncan
Assistant Recording Engineer
Cyrus "NOIS" Taghipour
Mixing Engineer
Derek "MixedByAli" Ali
Mixing Engineer
Nicolas De Porcel
Mastering Engineer
Demitrius Lewis II
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Terius Gesteelde-Diamant
Producer
Lyrics
Ooh-ooh, mm-hmm
Ooh-ooh
Whoa, whoa, yeah
You a yes-man, I'm a rich boy (throw some D's on her)
I'm a breast man, I'ma skeet on her, make a mess
And she gon' look up to me, I'm who she proud of
I come from where it's hustlers, pimps, players and don dadas
Yeah
Yeah, yeah
New shit might get spooky, had to bring the ways back
Stupid lil' bitch wan' reminisce about some shit from way back
When you slackin' on the job, that's when they try and take that
Niggas really think they cutthroat 'cause they talkin' out they necks
Why don't you get out your feelings? Middle fingers to these niggas
They wanna see me turn to the villain, either way though, I'ma kill 'em
When they tried to tell me, "No," I said, "No, motherfucker, yes" (yes)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh)
Yes (tss), yes (huh), yes (huh)
When they tried to tell me, "No," I said, "No, motherfucker, yes" (huh)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh), yes
Fuck you mean? My life real GTA
And I need a payment in ETH
Right now, the motherfucker ETA
And I be the champ, nigga, year after year, after year
Yeah, I'm goin' three-peat wave
I ain't droppin' no dime, you boys cheapskates
And I'm stickin' to the course, no PGA
Hoes plottin' on me, that's so cliché
Five-star suite, five-star general, yeah, bitch, and I'm goin' AWOL (AWOL)
How the fuck a young nigga got his whole logo on a jersey and a nigga don't play ball?
Stupid niggas been like "What you been on?"
I said, "A fuckin' rocket, bitch, I'm 'bout to go take off" (take off)
Bitch, I'ma fly my own PJ, fuck you mean?
Top flight security of the world, Craig
Goofy-ass highs
Niggas got my name in they mouth 'cause I'm all in their girl head
I stuck to the code, niggas can't decode me
If they pushin' my buttons, it's code red
20-thousand bitches prayin' that we break up
You that nigga, why you sleepin'? I'm him when I wake up
Yeah, holy matrimony where I stack the cake up
This right here the realest game I probably ever gave up
When they tried to tell me, "No," I said, "No, motherfucker, yes" (yes)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh)
Yes (tss), yes (huh), yes (huh)
When they tried to tell me, "No," I said, "No, motherfucker, yes" (huh)
Yes (huh), yes (huh), yes (huh)
Yes
Yeah
Yes
I would rather give y'all my soul, I don't have to sell it
Might take a piss off your rap Mount Rushmore after I scale it
Blue strips when I do hit the strip, know we fuckin' it up like Elvis
No broke talk, G.O.A.T. talk
Money talkin' to me, like I don't need no motherfuckin' therapist
Brought it right back to the crib like it's nowhere else to go
I was in North Carolina, throwin' up them pyramids with Hov
Confirmation that my ancestors built pyramids, for sure
Nothin' happens by coincidence, it's written in the scrolls
Fuckin' wifey types like hoes
I can't even put on my clothes, bitch, I gotta go
Pockets so deep, it implodes
Who keepin' up with the score? I don't plateau
Niggas back up in that mode
And I don't weigh no pros or no cons 'cause I only know pros
Fuck what you sellin' me
I lay the play down to run this bitch, I think they tellin' me, "No"
Writer(s): Eric A. Bellinger, Sean Anderson, Markus Alandrus Randle, Emmanuel Eugene Nickerson, Welbon Morris Jr., Julian Harris, Travis Walton, Milan Beker, Michael Mule, Isaac De Boni, Roget Lutfi Chahayed, Aaron Booe, Enoch Rich Harris Iii, Terius Adamu Ya Gesteelde-diamant, Myles Satterfield, Jazz Cartier
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