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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
Madlib
Programming
The Heliocentrics
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Otis Jackson
Songwriter
Malcolm Catto
Songwriter
Jake Ferguson
Songwriter
Mike Burnham
Songwriter
Fredrick Tipton
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Freddie Gibbs
Producer
Madlib
Producer
Ben "Lambo" Lambert
Producer
Eothen Alapatt
Producer
Sidney "Speakerbomb" Miller
Recording Engineer
Rich Gains
Recording Engineer
Fabian Hummel
Recording Engineer
Mario Caldato Jr
Mixing Engineer
Dave Cooley
Mastering Engineer
Eric Anthony Sandoval
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
Smooth, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?
Too motherfuckin' smooth, bitch, yeah
Bald head, head like a baby, a baby ass, bitch, yeah
Yeah, Kane
Here to motherfuckin' remain, yeah
Uh, bitch nigga
It's still fuck police, too
Yeah, nigga, yeah
Rest in peace Terrence Crutcher,
motherfuck Betty Shelby (Fuck that bitch)
I never wish death but bitch, find a hollow tip and inhale it
When Taz drove off with two kilos, I told him we should mail it
And now we gone up the river, they seen my nigga sellin'
Nigga killed the police in Dallas, that's probably fake news
While they knock 'em off with robotics, R2D2's
Everything on me icy, Snow White, it's just like I skiied through
I sit back in the trap with them rats and I watch the cheese move
Shakin all these nutso niggas off the roof, off the record
Ball without a motherfuckin' ball like I was Tommy Sheppard
Life a bachelor party, we with them strippers on O's and X's
I can't hold no grudges, my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah
Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah
I pour it up and get my soul right
East side boy, my mama was the mail lady (Yeah)
Brother and my sister got degrees but I got the yayo, baby (Yeah)
Had to beat my case, I can't turn Irie to a jail baby
Bitch, I weigh that shit up in my crib, I think your scale shady
Pass it off and drop it like Stockton, bitch, I facilitate
Fucked some niggas off but I also done set some niggas straight
Way back when we had rows and Lincolns is all a nigga ate
And every day I fuck up a bulletproof glass chicken plate, uh
Empty stomach, broken heart, and empty pocket
Three things that occur to show you if you and your niggas solid
Know that they won't prosper but the devil still gon' form the weapon
I can't hold no grudges,
my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah (Blessings, blessings)
Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah
Yeah, I pour it up and get my soul right, yeah
'Cause I been struggling my whole life, yeah
So I broke it down and it was all white, yeah
Mama always told me it'd be alright, yeah
I still broke it down and it was all white, yeah
I pray the Lord'll get my soul right, yeah
I still pray to Lord'll get my soul right
Writer(s): Fredrick Jamel Tipton, Otis Lee Jackson Jr., Robert James Bearns, Ron Dexter
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