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snacks - quilly lyrics

[intro: quilly]
keep everything alright? (aw!)
this sh-t recording bro? (keep all that, keep all that!)
hey, bro this sh-t recording?
ea!? this sh-t recording? (turn up!)

[bridge: quilly]
uh, b-tch the glizzy got a frisby in it
50 shots, gettin’ busy in it
yeah! nananana! let me do me, keep this sh-t recording bro!
we rocking! yeah. uh (whoa! whoa!)

[verse 1: quilly]

uh, b-tch the glizzy got a frisby in it
50 shots, gettin’ busy wit it
rollie look like walt disney in it
cream soda; throw some sizi in it
i’ma give these n-gg-s’ train smoke
back to back, i’ma chain smoke
burberry, this my rain coat, you a wave rider
this the same boat
f-ck them b-tches, we gon’ switch swab
f-ck em in my fendi flip flops
takin’ 30s like their cough drops
i’ve been f-ckin’ since my b-lls dropped
pull a tech like rasheed wallace
minus the bald spot
drinkin’ lean like it’s water
i’ma f-ck your auntie, mommy and daughter
all these b-tches on my d-ck, groupie n-gg-s’ on my d-ck
pause! 20 on me, i’ma lick. your son a f-ggot; will smith
your mom a dike; you’re a b-tch! b-tch!
maya angelou, still i rise, 10 30s, how i’m still alive?
i ain’t even suppose to be here, block jumpin’ like a leap year
i got 15,000 in my “d” squares
prada sneaks, like bowl, if you ain’t f-ckin now; roll
easy p-ss, f-ck a toll, i’m in puerto rico, on parole
james brown; i got soul, i got money, you got old
you can say whatever bout me n-gg-, f-ck it
i ain’t never told
i be twisted, i be twisted
shooter wit me, talkin twisted metal
platinum kush, i can hit a bezel
f-ck n-gg-, we on different levels
wesley snipes wit the pump n-gg-, white man can’t jump n-gg-
crack your egg, humpty dump n-gg-
pockets filled wit them lumps n-gg-
whip the batter like it’s cream of wheat
f-ckin’ b-tches like i’m eazy-e
movin’ weight like i’m heavy d, you get a headshot like the dvd

[hook: wucc]

don’t gotta bust a gun or let a uzi spit
to get respect, i’m gettin’ to it, too legit to quit
all these racks in my pocket, got me f-ckin’ lit
your b-tch lookin like a snack, she can get hit
b-tch, i’m f-ckin’ lit, b-tch i’m f-ckin’ lit
big bank, blowin dank, gang in this b-tch
all these racks in my pocket, got me f-ckin’ lit
your b-tch lookin’ like a snack, she can get hit
oh yeah!

[verse 2: wucc]

all these racks in my pocket when i’m walkin’ through
f-ck what you talkin bout my n-gg-, who you talkin to?
it ain’t what you know, it’s really who you know
if you ain’t on your grind, then get to movin’ bro
get it how i get it, tryna cop a foreign
think a n-gg- foreign, how i use a hoe
got some bad habits, tryna lose em tho
only god can judge me, you ain’t judy hoe
i get a lot of money, spend a lot of money
started saving up, i’m only human tho
n-gg- smokin’ fire, really got him wired
such a strong plug, but your fuse’ll blow
said i’m up now, my phone buzz now
from all old b-tches that i used to know
what is you talkin’ if it ain’t the cake?
please tell me what is your motive to hate
we not the same so please stay in your place
you want a name, i want a wraith
i caught a plane, you caught a case
you hang wit lames, i hang wit greats
greats, greats, what you thinkin’ n-gg-?
b-tch, i’m workin’ hard, ain’t no sleepin’ n-gg-
i ain’t for play, it ain’t a season n-gg-
i’m all about my (?), and every (?) n-gg-
from the fall, to the winter to the spring to the summer
into these bands, like i am a drummer
not into the drama, i’m into the commas
i do not hit the licks, i just hit baby mamas
i like to live cuz tomorrow not promised
shout out (?)
in a month, i make 10 racks
i just like to hit them snacks
if she not bad then i p-ss, got me feelin’ like i’m nash
in the club, watch me dab
not sippin’ on (?) im sippin’ yak
quilly with me on a track, we got this b-tch lit like the trap

[hook: wucc]

- quilly lyrics

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