Who composed the song “What I'm On” by Quando Rondo?

The song “What I'm On” by Quando Rondo was composed by Jack Thierer, Jarvis Adams, Tyquian Bowman.

What I'm On

Jack Thierer, Jarvis Adams, Tyquian Bowman

(Thanks, Yakree) baow, blrr
Baow, baow baow, baow (Jah, heat it up)
QRN

I'm drankin' (Drankin')
What's in your cup? I'm sippin' purple early
(Early) i'm bangin' at anyone approachin'
With that thirty (Thirty)
I'm paintin' any nigga block
That wanna murk me (Who manna murk?)
I'm sayin'
My dick old 'bout lil' shawty left me burnin'
(Uh, uh, yup)
Low-key (Uh) , I done really cashed out on an Audemars Rollie
I'm talkin' twice, I fucked lil' mama
Why she actin' like she know me?
(yeah, yeah)
Dolce, I done bought Gabbana on my
Corner from a dope fiend (yeah)
Don't say, i can go to jail just like
Tomorrow and I won't say shit

Pass me my guitar
You know I rock out with that burner (rrah)
Don't give a fuck 'bout where we at
We catch an opp and we gon' turn up (And)
I just cashed out on a
Box, when that bitch drop
You know I'm servin' (Uh, uh, uh)
How the fuck you niggas miss a
Hundred shots? That shit unheard of
(Wipe 'em, murk 'em)
Most likely in the pool with
Two twin bitches smokin' purple (yeah)
My best advice, you keep it
Cool, like drop a twenty, then you murder
New Cartier wrapped on the right wrist
I can't let lil' shawty purgin'
I hardly care 'bout doin' rap shit
We do dumb shit in my circle (Uh, uh)
Low-key, I be on my avenue strapped
Down, like, fuck the police, yeah
We come through, crept it
Stretch out, trap down
We gon' run down where 'em 'bows be, yeah
It ain't no cappin', watch the Maverick
Sippin' lean all in a nosebleed, yeah
(Magic) stay servin' nines out his mattress
I be deeper than his nosebleed
I fucked on her and her, the baddest
She a bad bitch
(Baddie) , ate the whole team
It's late night, geeked up off them Addies
Where the Act' at? I won't know it
I throw the six oh with
A passion, I'm blue-flaggin'
Sent 'bout four hit's
I keep that heat tucked on
My avenue, you come through, we gon' off it

A different language, I speak it to the plug
He send them birdies
Lil Timmy dangerous, I try to tell him
"Come down with that curtain"
Ain't no explainin', shake it, grip
Then run out with that burner
If you ain't gangin'
We gon' cross you out like Kyrie Irving
And we gon' up and shoot all
All I smoke is dead niggas
And you know I all us bangin' blue
But all I fuck is red bitches
Slimy bitch for sho', she wipe his nose
She filled with snake venom
Take your back, call back that
Poli' up, and blow, and keep that K with 'em
Give a fuck where they at, we gon' run down
With the stick in the car
We gon' stick up the block
If you don't give it up, it's a gun sound
Twenty pounds from the plug and
It's fresh off the product
I'ma hold this shit down for
My niggas on lock talk how back in the day
We was stealin' them cars
Man, these niggas be cap
They ain't never gon' spark
Niggas really be bitches
They beefin' 'bout box hole (Uh, uh)
Stole a tee
Lil' whoadie used to rock 'em way
Before he wore the Robins
Ayy, she gon' throw it back and
Bust it open 'cause I'm poppin'
Stop it, you be drankin'
Green, two double cups, i'm sippin' Wocky
My VVs blindin' from my neck down to
My wrist like I play hockey

Quando Rondo

What I'm On

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