Top Songs By Jordan D. Mitchell
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Jordan D. Mitchell
Remixer
Dita Ding
Remixer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jordan D. Mitchell
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Jordan D. Mitchell
Producer
Lyrics
Fu- Fuck a conversation, my chopper got me stuttering these **** test my patience
Bitch! Total annihilation, this ain’t a game, I really leave yo brain on the pavement
My ex bitch was star, Kayne bitch I made you famous
Bitches make videos, this dick taxing, I need the bacon
No Stranger to the beef, we can cook until you missing
Never trust a bitch, snitch **** disappearing
Red light pull up leaving dents in yo whip, 246 with a 186
Statute of limitations and I still ain’t sayin shit
If **** wanna die, pull to up to the 26
Banana clips with chips that make the body do a flip
I get from the gutter, shoutout Tino, cuddy innocent
Told **** I keep it strap, no lesbian I’m talking military
AR15s, Glock 19s praying to the Virgin Mary
I know I’m traumatized, in my eyes you’d catch the devil praying
Bitches love a ****, they love fuckin on somebody famous
**** tough behind the phone, catch em traffic, now they past tense
Fuck being kind, I’ma remind you why I’m a menace
Blue Heart cripping, bad bitch stealing
If a **** want revenge, plot ahead, cuz I’m gon kill you
Fuck leaving a trace, spirited away ain’t nobody see you
In the midst of the night, catch you slipping, whatchu gon do?
Girl I put that on my set, I put THAT on the homies, I put that on the dead
You ain’t tryna let me fuck, then bring yo friend, she gave me head
Bitches broke breaking bread, but I ain’t playin is you the feds?
Sold drugs to pay tuition, house full of ammunition
If a **** really trippin, broadcast him as a victim
Don’t fuck up my money, cuz I go dummy with a hollow tip
Ignorance is bliss, but tell bitch that she can’t have shit
Stare into my eyes realize Death is how I make amends
My momma stressed out, cuz one day I’ll never rap again
Before a **** die, no suicide, I need to get revenge
Bro thought he was safe, we pulled up, now his story ends
Saw him on a t-shirt, laughed then we smoked his friends
Ran to bag, I shot Santa, bitch I need help
Had to reup on the drugs, ain’t no Micheal Phelps
Generational wealth, bitch if I got too I’ll do it by myself
Written by: Jordan D. Mitchell