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i'm on (freestyle) - quilly lyrics

[intro: quilly]
i’m on, high as a kite, can’t wait till i get on though
oh yeah, turn me up, in the headphones

[verse 1: quilly]
uh, yeah, i’m on i’m on
i’m beyond high right, i’m draw’n
spank that four and the baby; new born
n-gg-s’ just bluffin, reachin, they ain’t drawing
now a days, kids shootin’ n-gg-s’ that’s grown
and kids having kids, kids gettin’ disowned
we don’t pop sh-t at the lip, we pop chrome
push a n-gg- top back; cowboy’s dome
same n-gg-s’ giving up tape, pushin’ tapes back
beatin’ n-gg-s’ up like rocky; asap
asap, a.s.a.p., on the grind wit the 9 like an s.a.t
i don’t feel n-gg-s’ but i bet they feel me
n-gg-s’ wanna ride my wave; jet ski
anybody can get it, old n-gg-, young n-gg-
you just throwin’ signs up b-m n-gg-
flea flicker in the field; hand off
i was just at the f playin’ hand ball
don’t snitch, feel better when you stand tall
keep it real n-gg-, matter fact
frauds can’t keep it real with themselves
too much bluffin; can’t even deal with themselves
got n-gg-s’ in the pen, you dont’ even write him
watch when he come home, they ain’t gon’ like him
knock it out, straight drop; mike tyson
add a little minnesota, go hard; viking
shorty give me the coochie, never raw like sushi
after that, i’m back in the trap, and do the coochie
mix the c-ke up with the dope, they go belushi
everything’s all right, we gon be gucci
license plate, lv, everything dookie
shorty wanted to f-ck me before she even knew me
spit the pain to big, before he wore coogi
151 bacardi flow, the smoothies
soul like the oldies, mack like goldie
get on, check my man off; he don’t owe me
got a whole bunch of fiends, hands full of homies
circle real small, n-gg-s’ squares; boagies
stand in front of the store, cops keep draw’n
trap inside the store til’ all the rocks gone
show love to papi, eat with the ahki’s
stapes flow; n-gg-s’ cut, paste and copy
all this ralph lauren, i’m feelin’ like a jockey
peach ciroc, get drunk like i’m irish
rep 1 eye like a pirate
hannah montana, white girl; miley cyrus
uh, too fly for a stylist, hoes on my c-ck; pit fly like a pilot

- quilly lyrics

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