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FLY ANAKIN - THE TIMES / CORNER POCKET feat. Quelle Chris, BbyMutha & The Alchemist (OFFICIAL VIDEO)
Watch FLY ANAKIN - THE TIMES / CORNER POCKET feat. Quelle Chris, BbyMutha & The Alchemist (OFFICIAL VIDEO) on YouTube

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Fly Anakin
Fly Anakin
Vocals
Quelle Chris
Quelle Chris
Vocals
bbymutha
bbymutha
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Frank Walton Jr.
Frank Walton Jr.
Songwriter
Gavin Tennille
Gavin Tennille
Songwriter
Brittnee Moore
Brittnee Moore
Songwriter
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer

Lyrics

Witcho lil lemongrass aura, know the frame of mind was Florida
With the stained glass tortoise shelled quarter, loading just like a supplement
The creatine been ordering these hoes around
A quarter past the water ran across the ass
We cleansing, you dying from suspense way to turn events
Watched what I spent the shit just up and went toward the rent
I'm 'bout to take it for a walk and water it
Lore politicians to the crib it's time to order hits
You gotta man the shit you dishing out or it could come flying back to you
My dad was off the absolute we stabbing thru this mackerel
Might need another whack at you, go even with a stack or two
Nothing investments couldn't solve bitch I am the loot
Shouts out to me, props out to me
I call the radio, send my shouts out to me
Money on the way told 'em count it up for me
Never corner pocket outcha mouth to me
Still healing, just got outta labor
By the time I level up, I'm runnin outta favors
Hoping **** see me as a sister not a savior
I don't need your kisses at my feet, I'm too playa
Mutha fuck the president, mutha fuck the mayor
Mutha never fuckin with these **** I'm a hater, yea
And I could never see you later
You can't see me now I kick him out, no ultimatum
**** get on my nerves, Ion wanna fuck
Put these inches in ya mouth and suck it like a slut
You think you important, you ain't important enough
I'll ignore u on my worst day, I never gave a fuck
Fuckin' with me on my worst day, I gotta fuck you up, yea
I can't even drive it's still a pistol in my trunk
Itty bitty bitch, big ol body bitch im buck, yea
Bby fuckin Mutha, wrap it up don't test ya luck
Lil bitch
Shouts out to me, props out to me
I call the radio, send my shouts out to me
Money on the way told 'em count it up for me
Never corner pocket outcha mouth to me
Written by: Alan Maman, Brittnee Moore, Frank Walton Jr., Gavin Tennille

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