Released: February 19, 2018
Songwriter: Leon Ware Arthur “T-Boy” Ross OZ Trippie Redd
Producer: OZ
[Intro]
Haha, yeah, Big 14, know what the fuck goin' on, yeah
[Verse 1]
Ooh, said I made y'all (Said that I made)
So how could I be mad that I ain't y'all? (Mad that I ain't)
Same reason why I hate y'all (I hate what I hate)
Hop up in this 'Rari and I race off, ayy (Race off)
Do the dash in this racecar (Racecar)
Got the Pistol Pete on me, is this a face off? ayy (Face off)
Better say your damn grace dog (Damn grace)
You're blind in reality just like you're Ray Charles (Ray Charles)
[Chorus]
Ayy, I don't want no more pressure
No, I don't want no more pressure
No, I don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure, ahh
[Verse 2]
Ayy, fuck your bitch and hit my fucking dab, oh
Ayy, choppers by my side, you know it clap, oh
Like your bitch ass, big bag
Big cash, and I tote a big gat
Aftermath, I'm just dressed in all black, got the black mask
I'll pull it out the motherfucking black bag
Ooh, yeah, and drop your ass
Bang bang, lil' nigga you left in the past
Ooh, ayy, sonin' niggas, I'm your dad
Big racks on my body, baby got this cash
Pray these goofy niggas really goin' out sad
Give these pussy niggas hell like I'm Johnny Gat, ooh
[Chorus]
Swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
[Verse 3]
Ooh, ayy, ooh, are you niggas really from the field?
Or are you niggas really from the hills?
I got a mob of niggas coming by the mills
They'll shoot your ass down boy from 1400, kill for real
I'm tryna find your fuckin' chill
I'm off this Actavis, I'm tryna pop a seal
I don't do Xannies baby, no, don't do no pills
I'm just smokin' on dope, baby
Just thumbin' through the mills, so ill
Haha, yeah, Big 14, know what the fuck goin' on, yeah
[Verse 1]
Ooh, said I made y'all (Said that I made)
So how could I be mad that I ain't y'all? (Mad that I ain't)
Same reason why I hate y'all (I hate what I hate)
Hop up in this 'Rari and I race off, ayy (Race off)
Do the dash in this racecar (Racecar)
Got the Pistol Pete on me, is this a face off? ayy (Face off)
Better say your damn grace dog (Damn grace)
You're blind in reality just like you're Ray Charles (Ray Charles)
[Chorus]
Ayy, I don't want no more pressure
No, I don't want no more pressure
No, I don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure
Ahh, don't want no more pressure, ahh
[Verse 2]
Ayy, fuck your bitch and hit my fucking dab, oh
Ayy, choppers by my side, you know it clap, oh
Like your bitch ass, big bag
Big cash, and I tote a big gat
Aftermath, I'm just dressed in all black, got the black mask
I'll pull it out the motherfucking black bag
Ooh, yeah, and drop your ass
Bang bang, lil' nigga you left in the past
Ooh, ayy, sonin' niggas, I'm your dad
Big racks on my body, baby got this cash
Pray these goofy niggas really goin' out sad
Give these pussy niggas hell like I'm Johnny Gat, ooh
[Chorus]
Swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
No, swear I want no pressure
[Verse 3]
Ooh, ayy, ooh, are you niggas really from the field?
Or are you niggas really from the hills?
I got a mob of niggas coming by the mills
They'll shoot your ass down boy from 1400, kill for real
I'm tryna find your fuckin' chill
I'm off this Actavis, I'm tryna pop a seal
I don't do Xannies baby, no, don't do no pills
I'm just smokin' on dope, baby
Just thumbin' through the mills, so ill