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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
DC The Don
DC The Don
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Daijon Davis
Daijon Davis
Songwriter
Jose Gorbea
Jose Gorbea
Songwriter
Tyler Maline
Tyler Maline
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Illfaded
Illfaded
Producer
Trademark
Trademark
Producer

Lyrics

You got people out here goin' crazy We losin' loved ones everyday To the people that are sworn in to protect us It's not us, it's the police This the madness that they sparked up This is what they encourage Give a fuck what you rank, what you jack up 'Cause you ain't shit without no heart, you're getting packed up This .223 inside my bag will make you back up Better tell your homie, "Relax, bruh" It wasn't my fault, the stupid nigga made me act up It's only right brodie put Ricky in his bag, bruh It don't miss, bruh, we ain't got no mask, bruh You can charge your dash, bruh Pull up with a Cardi B, I'm Offset with a MAC, bruh You gon' have to pardon me, I'm known for givin' lack Niggas better not bother me if it ain't a bag Seahawks how we hawkin' shit, let's mob on they ass Don't get caught up at a red light, leave his mind on his dash Leave your head in your lap, turn your mans to a tat Turn your friends to a stat, we'll take y'all in last Put your bro on they ass, put your bro on they ass You hoes goin' out sad, Swisher sweet, she gets passed She don't wanna miss me, peons dissing You been fuckin' all these rappers, fake bitch, forget me You know they ain't nothin' like me and he ain't got no back Bitch, I woke up in my white tee, Franchize Boyz on your ass Niggas don't like me, teenage GOAT of my class How you way up on the 'Gram but then your mixtape was trash? That boy greener than grass, he a lick in my path The fuck a crooked-ass cop, boy, you ain't shit without your badge You get fucked up, bitch, all your luck's up, bitch Turn your body into stone and you get crushed up, bitch Snort your ashes with my guys, we getting fucked up, bitch Rockstar, baby demon, you get no love, bitch You get fucked up, bitch, run, your luck's up bitch Turn your body into stone and you get crushed up, bitch Snort your ashes with my guys, we getting fucked up, bitch Rockstar, baby demon, you get no love, bitch You get no love, bitch, you a dumb, bitch Why the fuck you wearing Reeboks up in the club, bitch? Shawty lookin' hella fine, don't walk to my section I'ma tell the bouncer kick her ass out, she trespassing Ten toes on the ground so you know I would never fold Let his body hit the floor, let his body hit the floor Ten toes on the ground, so bitch, you know I will not fold Let his body hit the floor, let his body hit the floor You get fucked DC The Don says he's a rockstar, dude And I for real believe that, dude He's gonna be one hell of a rockstar
Writer(s): Tyler Maline, Daijon Davis, Jose Gorbea Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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