Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Perc Nowitzki, Pill Cosby, Pill Bellamy, artist - QuillyDate of issue: 20.02.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Perc Nowitzki, Pill Cosby, Pill Bellamy |
| 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, fuck is you selling me? |
| The MAC on the shoestring blacker than Dick Greggory |
| Riding round' with instinct, origin and Pedigree |
| Most you niggas' 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 fucked up they rattin' and clappin', these niggas' 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 niggas' 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 fuck 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 |
| Fuck your bitch, 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 hit 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 kill these niggas' 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 |