Music Video

GRAVE (feat. Lil Skies)
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil Skies
Lil Skies
Vocals
Lil Gnar
Lil Gnar
Vocals
Eric Dan
Eric Dan
Programming
TM88
TM88
Programming
JordanXL
JordanXL
Programming
McCulloch Reid Sutphin
McCulloch Reid Sutphin
Programming
Michael Lohmeier
Michael Lohmeier
Programming
Sebastian Lopez
Sebastian Lopez
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andrew Hogan
Andrew Hogan
Songwriter
Bryan Simmons
Bryan Simmons
Songwriter
Caleb Sheppard
Caleb Sheppard
Songwriter
Eric Dan
Eric Dan
Songwriter
JORDAN ORVOSH
JORDAN ORVOSH
Songwriter
Kimetrius Foose
Kimetrius Foose
Songwriter
McCulloch Reid Sutphin
McCulloch Reid Sutphin
Songwriter
Michael Lohmeier
Michael Lohmeier
Songwriter
Robert Wooten III
Robert Wooten III
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Eric Dan
Eric Dan
Producer
Clinton "HeadAche" Walker III
Clinton "HeadAche" Walker III
Mixing Engineer
1mind
1mind
Producer
TM88
TM88
Producer
JordanXL
JordanXL
Producer

Lyrics

Nigga try us, we gon' put him in his grave We gon' put him in his grave. Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon And we like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic What happenin'? Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket Ooh! We gon' put 'em in his grave (Shit!) Closed casket, no case I'ma hide my face My bullets shoot with pain Tell her fall back, I need space We ahead of them in this race Gimme' good top in the Range. Woah, did 180 up on the dash (dash) I count it up like it's math (math) I ball hard like I'm Steve Nash, woah (Nash) I fucked your bitch, then gave her back You hit her phone like, "where you at?" I got her creeping through your backdoor, ayy, ayy (backdoor) Got VVS on my teeth (my teeth) I'ma ride or die for my team My diamonds shine, I might lean My coupe came with wings You're a broke boy who fiends I'ma take 'em out when I see 'em You a hatin' nigga, why you breathin'?. Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon And like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic What happenin'? Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket Ooh! We gon' put 'em in his grave (Shit!) Closed casket, no case I'ma hide my face My bullets shoot with pain Tell her fall back, I need space We ahead of them in this race Gimme' good top in the Range. My new mentality Put your lil' bitch on celery Made her cut back on calories, ay Feel the rage, you can see it in my whole face VV's shining, and they looking like some sun rays Slap a pussy nigga if he start talkin' craz Slap a lil nigga if he start talkin' braz Collect the pain while I'm going through these changes I got bands now, now I'm gettin' a lil famous Bust it open for me and I catch it all on camera Don't even remember, think lil mama name was Pamela When I die, bury me a legend, all I really want When I die, bury me a legend, all I really want. Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon And we like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic What happenin'? Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket Ooh! We gon' put 'em in his grave (Shit!) Closed casket, no case I'ma hide my face My bullets shoot with pain Tell her fall back, I need space We ahead of them in this race Gimme' good top in the Range
Writer(s): Eric Dan, Bryan Lamar Simmons, Jordan Orvosh, Sebastian Lopez, Kimetrius Foose, Caleb Sheppard, Mac Sutphin, Mac Lohmeier Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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