More songs by Bryson Tiller
Description
Synthesizer, Keyboards, Programmer, Producer: Charlie Heat
Composer, Associated Performer, Lyricist: Bryson Tiller
Lyricist, Composer: Ernest Brown III
Lyricist, Composer: Bobby Wooten
Composer, Lyricist: Keith Sweat
Mastering Engineer, Mixing Engineer: Mike Seaberg
Assistant Engineer: Chris Bhikoo
Lyrics and translation
Original
Nah, I'm finna go bananas for real
Three, two
Yeah, hey, huh
We goin' Donkey Kong, straight ape shit, nigga (huh-huh, huh-huh)
I ran up 25 million, fuck
Then a whole 25 million plus, yeah
I'm out of my feelings, yeah, huh
I'm puttin' my ceilings up, damn, huh
Gettin' my coin, hittin' that box like, huh, huh, yeah
Gimme my coin, hittin' that box like wham, bam, bam
Yup, run up 25 million, fuck
Spent it all on my children, yup, yeah, huh (what's up, what's up, what's up?)
She starin' at the coupe, tryna peep what I'm drivin' in (drivin' in)
Culli' with the suicide doors, I'm feelin' alive (alive)
Yeah, peep my drive, put a kite on my ride, I'm fly, huh, yeah
Out of my mind, first place winner, ain't come in no tie, nigga, huh
Look at my opps, they fallin' behind, yeah, yeah, yeah, huh
Waitin' on a nigga to cross the line, yeah, yeah, yeah, huh (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Puttin' Don Juli' in the cup, it's mine, yeah, yeah, yeah
I might have to serve 'em up one more time, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Oh, shit, baby, I'm too legit)
That's right, I'm racin' with no assist for real
New mindset, new whip, new deals
I'ma have to swap these out, new wheels
I see you got a shell, blue, chill
Niggas be mad, they too in they feels
Lettin' them bullets loose, no Bill (baow, baow, baow)
I feel like a superstar, for real
Every day choose my car, for real
Wowzers, who would've thought this here?
Bowser, bruise you dog, for real
Press L, boost my car, I'm ill
I'm finna go lunar, dog, for real
Should've been sooner, dog, for real
Huh, huh, I ran up 25 million, fuck (and then)
Then a whole 25 million plus (oh, yeah)
If anybody deserve this shit, it's us, boy (yeah, we up right now, huh)
I ain't too good, come sit with us, boy
I show you how to run shit up, boy
Fuck the 9-5s and buses, boy
Ask who made me, I made me (self-made)
They seen me fall, now watch me rise (goin' up right now)
Don't try to race me to the finish line, nah (ready, set, go)
I ran up 25 million, fuck (and then)
Then a whole 25 million plus (oh, yeah)
If anybody deserve this shit, it's us, boy (yeah, we up right now, huh)
I ain't too good, come sit with us, boy
I show you how to run shit up, boy
Fuck the 9-5s and buses, boy
Lappin' these boys, I'm on my shit
Yeah, got my opps goin' 60
Bry Tiller
I can't stop goin' 60