Lyrics SCHOENBERG - Quadeca, Moxas

SCHOENBERG

Ayy, ayy
Yeah, yeah (Huh)
Yeah, what?
Yeah, what
Ayy, haha, haha!
What?
(Bitch!)
I’m on my own-
I’m on my own shit (Hold up)
I’m like, «Oh, shit!»
(Huh?)
Call me Schoenberg, lil' bitch, I’m on my own shit
(Uh huh! Bitch!)
I can’t fuck 'round wit' you, 'cause you a broke bitch (You broke! Bitch!)
Yeah, the label called and said they need some mo' hits (Woah! More!)
I said, «Fuck that, lil' bitch, I’m on my own shit»
(Yeah)
Diamonds on my hip, I need some mo' drip (Hahahaha!)
I got all these bitches on my own dick (Yeah!)
Me, myself, and I, we got our own clique (Yeah!)
«Check out my song!»
Nah, bitch, I won’t click (No!)
Everybody wanna get a piece of the pie
But I’m sorry, I don’t owe you shit (Haha!)
They think that I been schemin', I’ve been rollin' wit' the team, but
That is not the way I grow this shit (Yeah)
Got dropped in the water, when they thought that I would drown
They never thought I was supposed to swim (Yeah)
I lost friends to the water, lookin' down at everybody
They be watchin' wit' the coldest grin (Yeah!)
But ain’t no one as cold as him (Yeah!)
Don’t even got a chain to his name in the game
But nobody got more gold than him (Haha-ha!)
Nobody controllin' him (What?)
The Devil got a hold of him (Yeah)
Somebody please get me his damn phone number
Can somebody get a hold of him?
(Please!)
Can somebody get a hold of him?
I eat souls,
I be scoldin' them
I wake 'em up, like Folgers,
then (Brrr!)
You know how I roll like a boulder when
I go leave 'em all shook, like colder winds (What? Yeah)
Got it right on my hip, high noon (What?)
Got a five stack on top, haiku (Huh?)
You are not makin' no waves, bayou (Yeah)
Spittin' so hard, might crack my tooth (Yeah, yeah, huh?)
I be like, «Oh, shit!»
(Huh?)
I feel like Walt White, I’m cookin' up this dope shit (Walt! Ayy)
I got the drip now, and I think that she noticed
You try to ask for a feature, I’m like, «No, bitch!»
(Bitch, bitch!)
«Why he got horns on his head?»
'Cause I’m the G.O.A.T., bitch!
Call me Schoenberg, lil' bitch, I’m on my own shit (Yeah! Ayy!)
I cannot fuck wit' you, you’s a broke bitch (Hahaha)
Yeah, the label called, they said they need some mo' hits (What?)
I said, «Fuck that, lil' b—»
Isn’t it beautiful?
Look at the world you once thought was a dream
All for you
All, all
All
(Ah!)