Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Clouted Up , by - Quadeca. Release date: 22.03.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Clouted Up |
| Bitch, I’m clouted up, bitch, I’m clouted up, ay |
| I get my numbers up, gotta add 'em up, ay |
| Until I get it I ain’t never packin up, yeah |
| And they all comin' for my blood like Dracula, ay |
| Okay so all my clothes is Japanese |
| I wear it casually |
| And I’m a killer on the mic |
| Might cause a couple casualties |
| And all I’m needin' is a beat to make your fuckin' salary |
| Man I said fuck the peanut gallery |
| I got a fuckin' allergy |
| Trappin down my PayPal make it friends and family |
| Now I’m so hot I need some oven mitts |
| Ain’t safe to handle me |
| Now I made my checks from Spotify |
| They pay me handsomely |
| I got the mic up to my brain to help maintain my sanity |
| Okay so everybody 'round me they been wasting my time, ay |
| Pull up to the Functions and see they face when I rhyme, ay |
| Everyone’s a critic on my case all the time |
| Do it by myself |
| I don’t need a way to get signed |
| Bitch, I’m clouted up, yeah, I’m clouted up, ay |
| I get my numbers up, gotta add 'em up, ay |
| Until I get it I ain’t never packin' up, no |
| And they all comin' for my blood like Dracula, ay |
| Okay I’m backin' this, not maskin' shit |
| Now everybody wanna go packin' shit |
| I don’t give a fuck you don’t absent it |
| Imma fuck the whole game up on accident |
| Wait a minute, shit I’m too passionate |
| Imma, put a cap in it |
| Remember when they used to all laugh at this |
| And then they hit me up like what the fuck’s happenin? |
| Ay, I had to sacrifice a lotta sleep |
| Because a lotta people wanna laugh at me |
| Ay, standin in the way of who I wanna be |
| Now random strangers recognize me when I cross the street |
| Ay, I’m clouted up yeah |
| I get my numbers up, gotta add em' up, ay |
| Until I get it I ain’t never packin up, nah |
| And they all comin' for my blood like Dracula, ay, ay |
| Ay, had a cup of ford just to focus, ay |
| You know I was poor when I wrote this ay |
| I got too torn I was hopeless |
| Now it’s all black foreigns like the potus |
| Ay, I’m clouted up yeah |
| I get my numbers up, gotta add em' up, yeah, ay |
| Ay, I’m clouted up yeah, get my numbers up, gotta add em' up |
| Yeah, ay |