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perc nowitzki, pill cosby, pill bellamy - quilly lyrics

[verse 1: quilly]
uh, yeah
perc nowitzki, pill cosby, pill bellamy
riding round’ wit 25 to life; all felonies
new cheese, blue beans, old hundreds and celery
lawyer paid off, if they book me then he bailing me
the numbers high and they stepped on, f-ck is you selling me?
the mac on the shoestring blacker than d-ck greggory
riding round’ with instinct, origin and pedigree
most you n-gg-s’ told, i ain’t hearing what you telling me
we the ones that kept it a hundred and never told
you the one that got on the stand and broke the code
it’s f-cked up they rattin’ and clappin’, these n-gg-s’ bold
i’m bringing my long sleeves out, it’s gettin’ cold
i’m the new sound, new wave, new era
suit gettin’ fitted; compliments to my tailor
i can smell success, this the opposite of failure
kept us above water, i’m the captain and the sailor
i know these n-gg-s’ jealous, they gon’ send the cops to jail us
tuck the work, only thing left; paraphernalia
i know they wanna break up the family like roc-a-fella
all your beats track, you should of went acapella
whole closet drum sets, you don’t want none of that
work out all through the winter until the summer back
packs doin’ sit ups and squats, the rocks; jumping jacks
clinton portis, my youngin’ get them packs and run it back
watch for the cops, roll over if you fumble that
it’s kool if you f-ck my money up, you bringin’ double back
hustle this, hustle that, hustle pills, hustle crack
sonic in the pot, watch me bring that bill russell back
penfield canadian goose with the lumberjack
spin your block with them drums, bring them [?} back
f-ck your b-tch, give her back to you and get my number back
big tymer, quilly mannie fresh in that hummer black
no limit, master p, c-murder
not new orleans though, haines & magnolia
smokers h-t the yola, get slim like soulja
nothing but cocaine and guns, go open my folder
rap sheet longer than a tail on a cobra
angel on my right, devil on my left shoulder
tellin’ me to k!ll these n-gg-s’ like ebola
4 oz of coca, lil’ baking soda
heat the pyrex and then i stretch like yoga
she gon’ shine the choppa if she got that super soaker
grand slam then i send her home; sammy sosa
pop 3 30’s, get a sprite soda, mix the yellow up with the purple
minnesota

- quilly lyrics

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