More songs by Metro Boomin
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Description
Metro Boomin Presents: A Futuristic Summa (Hosted by DJ Spinz)
Producer: Metro Boomin
Producer: Zaytoven
Recording Engineer: Collins "Roos" Ukegbu
Recording Engineer: Nicholas “Tyrks” Graham
Recording Engineer: Philippe Goudiaby
Mixing Engineer: Ethan Stevens
Mastering Engineer: Joe LaPorta
Other: Malik Benberry
Other: William "Bilz" Dougan
Additional Mixing Engineer: Victor Luevanos
Composer Lyricist: Leland Wayne
Composer Lyricist: Xavier Dotson
Composer Lyricist: Rodney HIll, Jr.
Lyrics and translation
Original
Jay-T.
-Yeah. -Metro.
I'm just trying to make some sense of this shit, you know?
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense.
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense. Bought a Lamborghini, you ain't got no house.
Blew your PPP and you ain't even finish your mouth. Wow. Wow.
Ask to borrow money, but on Instagram you're rich. You rich.
Claim that you a gangster, paperwork say you a snitch. Your best friend started rapping, asked to post him on your page.
You say no, he go to jail, you post it, "Free him" every day.
Your little homie making clothes, you ain't support him, had to work.
When he died, you was the first, put his face up on a shirt.
Everybody want a handout, they ain't tryna work for shit. Give 'em a job laying down, they gon' stand up on you and quit.
How we beefing? I don't know. You're telling people you wanna fight me.
Hate me from a fake page. Why you following if you don't like me, dog?
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, homie, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, baby, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
You at the mall, you ain't shopping. Booty club, you ain't tipping.
Last year was banging Blood, this year I hear you Crip-ping.
Spent three hundred for the case, protect your phone. Protect your phone.
But you raw dog every girl you ever bone. Make it make sense.
Me and you just hanging out, I understand that, that we cool. Ran into you with my boo, you tried to cut the fool. That was rude.
Just last week saw you with your dude, I kept it P, I kept it smooth.
What the fuck going on with you? Why can't you be cooler, nigga?
They gon' scream on bullhorn, bullshit be going on. Let you do something beneficial, bet you barely get a whisper.
Nigga dating bitches body, bitches date niggas pocket.
You withdraw it, she deposit, pussy shaped just like a wallet. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, homie, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, baby, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
It's the Don D-O-N.
D-A-D-O-N. Same way it's read, same way it's said.
Metro Boomin.
Spins.
Can't have no Futuristic Summer without the Don.
Metro.
English translation
Jay-T.
-Yeah. -Metro.
I'm just trying to make some sense of this shit, you know?
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense.
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense. Bought a Lamborghini, you ain't got no house.
Blew your PPP and you ain't even finish your mouth. Wow. Wow.
Ask to borrow money, but on Instagram you're rich. You rich.
Claim that you a gangster, paperwork say you a snitch. Your best friend started rapping, asked to post him on your page.
You say no, he go to jail, you post it, "Free him" every day.
Your little homie making clothes, you ain't support him, had to work.
When he died, you was the first, put his face up on a shirt.
Everybody want a handout, they ain't tryna work for shit. Give 'em a job laying down, they gon' stand up on you and quit.
How we beefing? I don't know. You're telling people you wanna fight me.
Hate me from a fake page. Why you following if you don't like me, dog?
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, homie, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, baby, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
You at the mall, you ain't shopping. Booty club, you ain't tipping.
Last year was banging Blood, this year I hear you Crip-ping.
Spent three hundred for the case, protect your phone. Protect your phone.
But you raw dog every girl you ever bone. Make it make sense.
Me and you just hanging out, I understand that, that we cool. Ran into you with my boo, you tried to cut the fool. That was rude.
Just last week saw you with your dude, I kept it P, I kept it smooth.
What the fuck going on with you? Why can't you be cooler, nigga?
They gon' scream on bullhorn, bullshit be going on. Let you do something beneficial, bet you barely get a whisper.
Nigga dating bitches body, bitches date niggas pocket.
You withdraw it, she deposit, pussy shaped just like a wallet. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, homie, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, baby, make it make sense.
Make it make sense, make it make sense. Make it make sense, make it make sense.
It's the Don D-O-N.
D-A-D-O-N. Same way it's read, same way it's said.
Metro Boomin.
Spins.
Can't have no Futuristic Summer without the Don.
Metro.