More songs by Hit-Boy
More songs by Rio Da Yung Og
Description
Producer: Hit-Boy
Mixer, Engineer: Davis Strauss
Mastering Engineer: Demetrius Lewis
Assistant Engineer: Andre Guirguis
A And R Coordinator: Nima Nasseri
A And R Coordinator: Jeremiah "Picasso" Aubert for R Baron
A And R Administrator: Samuel Katz
A And R Coordinator: Babyfacedev
Lyrics and translation
Original
Aye, come on, come on, stay hard. Lil Hardy. Aye. Turn my level up a bit too.
Aye, aye, aye, aye. This bitch red, black, and white with this chrome sweater.
Aye. I cracked the baddest bitch in there, like, "What's your phone number?
" Aye, aye. Lil Hardy. Aye, aye. This bitch red, black, and white with this chrome sweater.
I cracked the baddest bitch in there like, "What's your phone number?
" She make the kids disappear when I get dome from her.
He couldn't fit this lifestyle, it was the wrong rubbers. Don't gotta talk the price down, I'm buyin' what I wanted.
I been scorin', flyin' private, I been drivin' foreign.
I had to lick after the split was a enormous portion.
Was with the niggas that got a rich off of the unemployment. The war-ready Wiggle Nation, bro, they love deployin'.
Seems if I ain't seein' shadows, then I'm hearin' voices. Press the gas pedal down in
Supreme Forces. My diamonds dance, bottle clowns, Harley's head spun around.
This how bread look and sound, I been yeast talkin'.
Ass up, face down, I see yeeks only. The yeek on me, the geek homie sent the link for me.
It get cold on that road, the heat cease warm me. I'm 'bout to let nobody bother me how we was taught.
We didn't stop committin' robberies 'til we was caught.
Her bottom naturally wobbly, her titties bought. Feed the real ones in the county off the keefy coffee.
My sneaks don't have a crease and all my pieces glossy.
We took trip after trip, that's how we was flossin'. Quarter zip in that spliff and I'm not even coughin'.
I'm content with Saks Fifth, but I miss bleedin' Barneys.
I miss bleedin' Barneys. Black gloves, leather vest, we can't flee on Harleys.
On God. My bad.
Lil' bro got the eagle on he freebandz.
Most these niggas can't keep it P, I peep that. She blowin' on my flute in the coupe, I think I'm three stacks.
I ain't sayin' she put me to sleep, it was a brief nap.
Truth or lie, real or fake, you -decide. -You decide.
-Gang slide, everywhere niggas reside. -Gang slide.
They ain't really solid, I seen all the signs.
-They ain't solid.
-Niggas pressed over minors, I'm pressin' lines, look. They wasn't crackin' in this bitch 'til we arrived.
Niggas really found a new technique for they top, nigga.
I wasn't connected, I just connected the -dots. -Bitch, I'm connected.
They ain't doin' no zip, it got a box.
That's why they never seem to hit me when they sendin' shots. Bend shorty over, do my Dougie, then I bend the block.
We finna cut up 'cause my young boy came with a chop.
Nigga square, if it's problems, it's no problem, spin the block.
Flavor Flav, we on time and run it back like spin the clock. Van Halen, axe on road, step back, we finna rock.
-We finna rock.
-They can't take the fire, bitch, I got 'em -hot. -We on fire.
They went and bought some pussy, I went and bought the Glock.
I'm 'bout to let nobody bother me how we was taught.
We didn't stop committin' robberies 'til we was caught. Her bottom naturally wobbly, her titties bought.
Feed the real ones in the county off the keefy coffee.
I dr- I drunk a pint last night, woke up sleepwalkin'. I'm with the sharks, you need deep in some beach water.
I heard your lil' brother died, you need to recharge.
I'm a Flint nigga, king of talkin' shit, but now we yeast talkin'.
I paid a million for this crib, ain't no leasing office. I pulled up to Little Caesars, bought a pizza off 'em.
I'm usin' code words. When I say I need four slices, that's four birds. Ayy.
I was just in the feds makin' keefy coffee.
This bitch pussy so dry, I thought Laurie was talkin'. He got a dry voice. I'm finna drink a pint, that's my I voice.
My other bitch pussy wet, she gon' die moist.
I know the shit good, but would you die for it? He had, he had an eight of the new drank, he let me try it for him.
He only had an eight, but how the fuck you got five more? This nigga cut the drank.
I had an M in jewelry on, it wasn't nothin' fake. Yeah.
That old boy shit, nigga, money is not everything. Shout out my nigga Hit-Boy.
We still shit talkin', but we yeast talkin' too, though. Know what
I'm sayin'?