Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Drake
Drake
Vocals
Isaac “earlonthebeat” Bynum
Keyboards
Aliandro “Ali Roots” Prawl
Keyboards
Bennet “Bangs” Pepple
Keyboards
Gentuar “GENT!” Memishi
Keyboards
Marques “M3rge” Hutchison
Keyboards
Hassan Phills
Hassan Phills
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Aubrey Drake Graham
Aubrey Drake Graham
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Noel Cadastre for Ref 1 Music Inc.
Noel Cadastre for Ref 1 Music Inc.
Recording Engineer
Chris Athens
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Isaac “earlonthebeat” Bynum
Producer
Aliandro “Ali Roots” Prawl
Producer
Bennet “Bangs” Pepple
Producer
Gentuar “GENT!” Memishi
Producer
Marques “M3rge” Hutchison
Producer

Lyrics

Yeah, leavin' out the club with no hos, it's a dub You somewhere on house arrest pretendin' you in love Exfoliate that nigga that you with, he a scrub Like I wanna know what's up, what happened to us? Your new nigga pretend to be the man, he a stud, like Patek that I had you in was hittin' like a floodlight We was really locked in, we got it out the mud like All I got is memories of thinkin' what it was like Now you tryna style in my face, pop it in my face Put it on the 'Gram, you supposed to be my ace I'm hatin' hard, I'm hatin' way too hard I'm hatin' hard, I'm hatin' way too hard I'm hatin' hard, you played the part You wasn't who you are right now I'm hatin' hard, I'm hatin' way too Yeah, PX, PX, PX, PX, PX, P-ski Yeah, PARTY on a paper chase Poppin' out in Saginaw, poppin' out in Salt Lake Poppin' out in Arizona, bitch, I feel like Tate McRae Vanilla ice and white hos, straight cake, uh Niggas love to talk, man, stack somethin' Puttin' Charli up her nose, X on her tongue She been geekin' hard, she done had a Brat summer PARTY pull up on the scene, black Hummer You boys pull up to the 6ix, we get the tax runnin' Ay, talkin' on the O, tryna prove somethin' Nigga, whack somethin', pack somethin', do somethin' Ay, I don't give a fuck, I'm a fallout boy when they call our gang Lost a lot of brothers to this dog-ass game What am I supposed to do with all that pain? Sleepless nights, drawn out days Thinkin' about how wrong I played Even lost my bitch to the small town fame Ay, ay, I'm a mess right now You know what, man, we're all in this Now, whether we're all in this together Or you're all in it for yourself The fact of the matter is that we're in it
Writer(s): Aubrey Drake Graham Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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