Featured In
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Camp Lo
Performer
Geechi Suede
Vocals
butterfly
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Saladine Wallace
Songwriter
Ishmael Butler
Songwriter
David Willis
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Alan Douches
Mastering Engineer
DeJuan Perignon
Assistant Engineer
Dexter Thibou
Assistant Engineer
Joe Quinde
Mixing Engineer
Max Vargas
Assistant Engineer
Ski Beatz
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Don't give me your swing, I got mines and that's the thing
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
Don't give me your swing, I got mine and that's the thing
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
[Verse 2]
Now for the grab the stash, to the alley Varner any splash
Trying not to crash, swerving got the la la on the dash
Getting bent up in the armored truck, stuck him for his glam
Shit is candy yams, now we moving on the ancient mans
They using psycho vision for the Valentino Gorabani
Fuck Armani Butter, we above these climbs
Heist the harbors, word to godfathers getting bleed
Chasing on Savanna down to Venice, sign a sire about my alley
Vending ways that's how it was 'cause
Now they got us blaming at the fuzz it's all gun and poses
On a bed of roses getting shrugged, wrap him in a rug
Leave him on the roof till he stink, hit the pool hall
Fled the Calico and watch him blink, moving on Picaso
Painting my portraits and condos 'cause when the Lo blows
Only the Lord knows who Doe knows
[Verse 3]
Don't give me your swing, I got mines and that's the thing
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
Don't give me your swing, I got mine and that's the thing
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
[Verse 4]
I don't hate players, I'm from the crown rhyme sayers
Whatever kid sayers get down with no delaying
I play my cards shark style, kings and aces
Welcome to New York, the illest of all places
I never bleed even through this plaza of greed
You got the rarest, true ain't game in your world
Not them Forrest Gump **** with shades and S curls
I tilt my crown fly I'm trying to angle you girl
The me and you alliance is no doubt the fly science
We'll prosecute the phony star picks with our style
The million dollar necks word go head crack a smile
My name is Ish and that's something even in this tish
Of pimps, players, hustlers and killers and they wish
You're pretty to me, put me in your frame
Your complex attitude intrigue me, stronger than blow
You know, we can play the scenes like Pacino and Pfieffer
My queen will shine on brinks three karats and brighter
Finesse in foreign fabrics crit seers tighter
Them clown kids you dealt never belt
I came around swift and got felt
That champagne brand name style got melt
My man Killah Jules put me close to these jewels
That's dropped in the lesson sent to crush fools
[Verse 5]
Don't give me your swing, I got mines and that's the thing
Don't give me your swing, I got mines and that's the thing
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
Blasé, blasé, blasé, who name bell rings
Written by: David Willis, ISH, Ishmael Butler, Saladine Wallace