Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Quando Rondo
Quando Rondo
Vocals
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
YoungBoy Never Broke Again
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Darryl Clemons
Darryl Clemons
Songwriter
Kentrell Gaulden
Kentrell Gaulden
Songwriter
Tyquian Bowman
Tyquian Bowman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Pooh Beatz
Pooh Beatz
Producer
CxbGoCrazy
CxbGoCrazy
Recording Engineer
Jason Goldberg
Jason Goldberg
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Doo, doo, doo Uh, uh, yeah (Pooh, you a fool for this one) Stars in the ceilin' shit I make a wish when I jump out the Cullinan (uh, yeah) Someone grab the scissors 'cause I cut her off Once I hit, she get passed to my brother them (uh, uh, uh, yeah) Different color vehicles look just like some Skittles With two hundred thou' in a duffle bag I hang with the killer that killed your lil' nigga Y'all boys ain't no killers, I'm on your ass Pour up some codeine, I'm sippin' that I'm goin' cold, cold turkey Money and molly, it's tucked in the Fendi pack I don't want no more Perkies I send my youngin to shoot it up for a bag (brrt) I can't show no more mercy COVID-19, we gon' step on 'em with a mask I'm talkin' closed, closed curtains When you shoot, ain't no runnin', we dumpin' back Fifty shots in the drum when we up the mag' Just to make sure we slump 'em, we gon' double back Bitch, I come from the slums, out the can, Savannah My lil' murdered one in the new Atlanta Swear they say on my head it's a hundred racks I even got smoke with my own kind If I tell 'em, your chain get snatched Who the fuck you been talkin' to? I'm just askin' Nigga, y'all got my number, but makin' captions Nigga, since when these niggas been oversteppin'? Boy, it's up in the air, I ain't givin' passes Paranoid everywhere, so I keep a ratchet Bet that cutter gon' make 'em flip, acrobatic I just buried a hunna inside the casket Treat my bitch like a Barbie, just bought her plastic If you don't like me, let me know Boy, you know that you a ho Big check like Nike, that's for sure But yeah, this pipe still in for sure Before this music shit I ain't care 'bout money, I was shootin' shit I don't care 'bout who you is Your dude a snitch, these niggas know my crew legit Stars in the ceilin' shit I make a wish when I jump out the Cullinan (uh, yeah) Someone grab the scissors 'cause I cut her off Once I hit, she get passed to my brother them (uh, uh, uh, yeah) Different color vehicles look just like some Skittles With two hundred thou' in a duffle bag I hang with the killer that killed your lil' nigga Y'all boys ain't no killers, I'm on your ass Pour up some codeine, I'm sippin' that I'm goin' cold, cold turkey Money and molly, it's tucked in the Fendi pack I don't want no more Perkies I send my youngin to shoot it up for a bag (brrt) I can't show no more mercy COVID-19, we gon' step on 'em with a mask I'm talkin' closed, closed curtains Don't do no kickin', gotta get it I'm tryna get all of my niggas from out of the trenches I gave her racks for some game I cover her up in Dior, but mostly, it's Fendi My bitch be walkin' around with a million I take her wrist and I set Richard Mille Look at the diamonds, her bracelet's tennis Told you to tell 'em it's gon' be a killin' Really rich, fuck nemesis, I'm the villain I spent your whole label deal on my Bentley I tell it right how it is, killers, they keepin' it real I'm returnin' them with it Already know how I'm is One of them niggas gon' die when I come to the city Four-door matte Jag' with a sack Got the strap on his ass, nigga play, let it clap, get back Playin' with the bag, out the flap, it's a wrap Let it bang at his cap 'til his ass get smashed From the hotel, we go pick up them bitches Turn off her phone, she don't know where we at Loaded gun, tell her, "Leave me 'lone" I'm the one holdin' them racks I'm the one flooded with cash But once you get high with it, it'll never come back Stars in the ceilin' shit I make a wish when I jump out the Cullinan (uh, yeah) Someone grab the scissors 'cause I cut her off Once I hit, she get passed to my brother them (uh, uh, uh, yeah) Different color vehicles look just like some Skittles With two hundred thou' in a duffle bag I hang with the killer that killed your lil' nigga Y'all boys ain't no killers, I'm on your ass Pour up some codeine, I'm sippin' that I'm goin' cold, cold turkey Money and molly, it's tucked in the Fendi pack I don't want no more Perkies I send my youngin to shoot it up for a bag (brrt) I can't show no more mercy COVID-19, we gon' step on 'em with a mask I'm talkin' closed, closed curtains
Writer(s): Kentrell Gaulden, Darryl Lorenzo Clemons, Tyquian Terrel Bowman Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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