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Sean Garrett

Sean Garrett (born March 30, 1979) is an American singer, songwriter, and record producer. He has produced fifteen number one singles in only seven years of producing music. That number puts him in fifth place on the Billboard list of producers with the most number one hits. Garrett is the first producer to achieve this measure of success in under a decade since George Martin, who produced 20 #1 hits for The Beatles in 6 1/2 years from 1964 to 1970. He is also the only active hip hop producer that is mentioned on the Billboard list of producers with the most number one hits.[citation needed] more »

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Seen you last night at the
Club for the first time
In about a year, damn, girl I
The look on your face didn't say
That things were going the way
That you planned when I saw
You for the last time

Know sometimes you wish that you was with me
(ahh)
If we had a baby, what it would be (ahh)
Is your bank account, empty (ahh)
You can call me babe, anytime

Ain't gon' lie (ain't gon' lie) you ran up
I ain't expect to see you you start talking
(talking) saying shit ain't straight with him
You bring it up
(saying) you miss the way it used to be
And I ain't gone lie
But I moved on so far from here
You asking me
(honestly) I ain't got no answer
Is it true that I'm blamed for
That? I ain't got no answer
If I told you all my setbacks
All the shit I went through
I just buried my momma
Two months after I caught you
Hey, you heard I got that check
Hey, and I ain't trying to look back
I hope that maybe you chose to
Take a damn good care
I ain't wish you no better but
That ain't none of my business, no

I know that you wish that you
Had a young nigga like me
I know that you sad
I know you praying the Lord
For a nigga like me
You missing the shopping sprees
You missing the diamonds all in your rings
I pull up in Jags and Rovers and Bentleys
I know that you miss the front seat
Your bitches, they asking about me
Wanna know what a young nigga do
Cause the see my girl in that red dress
And they say that could be you, in it
Everytime they see Quavo
They say that boy pursue
(Like a real) Just look at
Yourself in the mirror
I know you wish I was there
That Porshe, Panamera
You know that car was your favorite
My momma she told me you crazy
I know you hate that I made it
So many chains, look like slavery
I hope I make you go crazy
Throw a hundred dollars for your step baby
You can have that old ass Mercedes


God damn, back then
Your momma, she wasn't fucking with me
Taking a trip out the city
Go quick on that Brittney
She thicker than Jiffy
The Louis, the Gucci, the Prada, the Fendi
Versace, and Givenchy
Know lil' mama gon' miss me
I was the Santa on Christmas
She talking about having my baby
But told me stop whipping them babies
I told her you crazy
When you see me pulling up in that drop top
I made it
She calling my phone, she come in my home
Knock on that booty, I'm gone
Met a bitch, said her name Nia Long
Smoking that good, ching chong
Came a long way, neighborhood star
And I'm on the top of Worldstar
Back then, nigga, looking at a star
Now a nigga shine with the stars
Red bottom got blood on the floor
Metta World Peace, got that elbow
She won't stop calling my phone
She hear me everyday on the radio

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