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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Real Boston Richey
Real Boston Richey
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Youngv1z
Youngv1z
Songwriter
Jalen Taheen Foster
Jalen Taheen Foster
Songwriter
Raheem Miller
Raheem Miller
Songwriter
Jorgen Sweeney
Jorgen Sweeney
Songwriter
Martin Neumann
Martin Neumann
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Youngv1z
Youngv1z
Producer
moicbeatz
moicbeatz
Producer
HardOCC
HardOCC
Producer
Ethan Stevens
Ethan Stevens
Mixing Engineer
Victor "Vic" Luevanos
Victor "Vic" Luevanos
Mixing Engineer
Raheem Miller
Raheem Miller
Recording Engineer
Heem
Heem
Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]
I'ma just— (Ayo, V1z, you fuckin' crazy)
Hold on
The fuck? What up? With who? Who? For real?
Alright, say no more
[Chorus]
Hey, hey, they just say a rap **** dissed me
Before that, he wanted a feature, pussy ****, ain't shit free
I ball on ****, I'm too elite, I can't go OT
I was on some tricky shit, they done fucked 'round and brought out the old me
****, I don't never be speakin' on shit, but ain't nan' one of these **** ho me
****, I wave red flags, I don't wave no white flags, I don't want no peace
Heard I got him whacked when he joced me, still called him broski
What the fuck you think I'ma do to a **** that don't even know me?
[Verse 1]
Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, you pussies did it
****, I'm simply made for bad bitches, why these **** be on my dick?
Fuck 'round, pop me a ****, no Diddy, ****, I'm the first lil' kid that did
We them fuckin' young ****, don't send shit up without no switches
You a pussy-ass lyin' bitch, see me slidin' in a two-tone, ****, that's my shit
Retarded-ass lil' ****, you don't even look like you fuckin' on fine shit
I'll probably give her a fifteen-ball just to fuck on a dime bitch
For bodies, I'ma give out twenty-five hundred, them youngins'll go try to slime shit
Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, why the fuck y'all get me started?
****, my whole fuckin' hood know I'm heartless
****, they tryna sell out on me, make me tarnished
Hey, get low, them youngins I'm with, them youngins shoot up parties, woo
I got M's like I'm Meek Milly
And I fuck with Meek, but a **** that diss me can't even make it out the city
I'm a real big Blood, go and ask, I'm a main Billy
I ain't never whacked a ****? What the fuck you on, ****, is you silly?
[Chorus]
Hey, hey, they just say a rap **** dissed me
Before that, he wanted a feature, pussy ****, ain't shit free
I ball on ****, I'm too elite, I can't go OT
I was on some tricky shit, they done fucked 'round and brought out the old me
****, I don't never be speakin' on shit, but ain't nan' one of these **** ho me
****, I wave red flags, I don't wave no white flags, I don't want no peace
Heard I got him whacked when he joced me, still called him broski
What the fuck you think I'ma do to a **** that don't even know me?
[Verse 2]
Juries-talkin'-ass ****, Spanish-walkin'-ass ****
A **** act like my ex-bitch, pull them panties out your ass, ****
Come to the Yams tryna vacay, fuck 'round, send them gravediggers
I don't even stunt you broke-ass, whack-ass ****, I'm out here paid with it
**** cap 'bout catchin' me slippin', who? ****, I'm stayin' with it
I be talkin' 'bout all them M's 'cause, bitch, I'm G and stayin' litty
Pop out by myself
Whole world done see me go through what I went through, ****, I ain't need no help
Treat a skinny-ass **** like I'm daddy, ****, go get my belt
Ayy, ****, I ain't gon' lie, ****
I ain't take this shit, none of this shit personal, ****
Ayy, ****, I stayed quiet when you **** dissed me, ****
I just been buildin' this shit up, ****, fuck a ****
I'm out here with it, ****
You dig?
[Verse 3]
Kickin' shit just like jiu-jitsu
Got your chain snatched two times, fuck that drill rapper too
I got country killers, these cornbread-eatin'-ass ****, they whackin' too
These **** I hang with still on Facebook, they don't got no IG moves
And these **** ain't even go to school
Yes, these ****, they know to shoot
Rowdy Rebel, Rowdy who?
I don't even know who the fuck is fool
All these pussy-ass **** food
All these rap **** pickin' sides
My whole city pull homicides
Boston Richey too bonafide
When I hit my city, bitch, I'm outside
These **** can't even go outside
Last **** played, you know he died
I don't even do this rappin' shit
I'm ready to let that window down
Talk like that 'cause I'm a real fuckin' Florida ****
I got Goyard bags by the ten, real bag hoarder, ****
Check these diamonds up in my mouth cost way more than a quarter, ****
And I know a **** gon' get punched in it, when I'm out, record a ****
How many hats you bought? ****, I ain't trippin', I can afford a ****
Fuck a rap ****, get your chain took when you in Florida, ****
On God, think twice before you **** diss Boston
Real shit popper, ask 'em how shit crossed 'em
We'll take the SI, **** can't speak 'cause the blick called him
Fake-ass trappin' ****, go and ask him how much the brick cost him
[Outro]
I'm a real street ****
Real trick ****, lotta money, ****, I be shit talkin'
Yeah, ****
I don't, ayy, yeah, ****, that's how this shit go, ****, you dig me?
Don't diss me
Written by: Jalen Taheen Foster, Jorgen Sweeney, Martin Neumann, Raheem Miller, Youngv1z
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