Lyrics Cars, Clothes, Rose Gold - Quilly

Cars, Clothes, Rose Gold

Rappin' like I’m trappin', it’s gon' only make me richer
Loadin' up the 30 and I give it to my hitter
Funny how I’m winnin, I was losin' like the 6ers
People prayin' that I give up but I never been a quitter
Benji;
my nigga, bank teller;
my nigga
In Saks Fifth, doin' the money dance cuz my bankroll a lil thicker
Benz 600 but the shooters in a sprinter
I already fucked the summer up, now I’m ready for the winter
Streets cold, need to keep me warm;
chinchilla
Fiends walkin' to me like the Zombies that’s in «Thriller»
Everybody got a shooter but who really got a killa?
Couple rappers doin' big, I’m just here to do it bigger
Dam!
Fuck swag, I rather be wavy
Fuck the love, I’d rather you hate me
Ball wit my niggas' right after my shows
Cars, clothes, rose gold, whoa, whoa, whoa!
25 for a verse, name a rapper that can see me
Wire me the money, you won’t even get to meet me
Funny how I’m wavy, they ain’t like me, I was peasy
Now I’m fresh up out of jail, my time was shorter than C-Breezy
Got the streets on lock, I ain’t givin' up the combo
Rittenhouse Square, lookin' down from the condo
Hatin' niggas' ain’t wanna see me home like LeBron tho
Lookin' at my presidential, finally my time hoe
In the county trappin', Quilly really rappin'
Fuckin' up the mike, I’m talkin' Tyson, Jordan, Jackson
Just was lookin' at a 4−8, how did all this happen?
Switchin' up my gears and I did it in a year, dam!
Fuck swag, I rather be wavy
Fuck the love, I’d rather you hate me
Ball wit my niggas' right after my shows
Cars, clothes, rose gold, whoa, whoa, whoa!
Get up out the hood, I can see me now
What did all that hatin get you?
I’m on tv now
Pull up on my enemies just to see em down
Pull up on my old hoes just to see em frown
Get it out the trap, watch them things float
Get it off track;
Usain Bolt
I ain’t jumpin' ship, this the same boat
Moncler for the winter;
watch me change coats
Everybody won’t make it, I might change friends
Still got the same focus, never change plans
A 100 hitters on «go» and they’re all official
Just a young hood nigga wit some rich issues, oh!
Fuck swag, I rather be wavy
Fuck the love, I’d rather you hate me
Ball wit my niggas' right after my shows
Cars, clothes, rose gold, whoa, whoa, whoa!