Lyrics Quilly - Quilly

Quilly

Yeah, flow is silly
Nigga all the hoes want Quilly
Take a trip to Miami when it’s cold in Philly
You can have the Projects I just hopped off a private jet
I’m on another level, you still sittin' on steps
Quill so great
Yeah I know, you still gon' hate
I’m at Felipes watching Mr. Chow grill my steak
I turned my first down into a Moncler
And then I turned my Rolex into Times Square
Hang around bum niggas, you gone be off
I hang around king pings, Imma be a boss
Bring me more mussels I go heavy on the sauce
My hoodie cashmere I’m cut from a different cloth
She know me by my government and rap name
Smokers call me Q, yeah that’s my trap name
I used to scramble over beans then the racks came
I used to shoot the 38 until the mack came
I came up from the seven like a crack game
These niggas runnin 'round tellin, playin' rat games
I’m at the dealership dropping all change
These youngins' going broke tryna buy Balmain
First they hate me then they love me again
She had a man, now she single so we fuckin' again
I change clothes like flows never stuck in the trend
I book money up, fuck it up, tuck it again
One of closest friends told we don’t speak nomore
I rest when I rest in peace I don’t sleep nomore
I at an all you can eat so I can eat nomore
I’ve been faithful to the money, I don’t cheat nomore
They tried to lock me in the cell, put my life in the box
But Imma make a few Mil' rather you like it or not
I turned the flame up, baking soda, ice in the pot
I spent nights on the corner, came back wit a watch
I spit crack no baggies all caps for this
Show money just to think I used to trap for this
Uh shit goofy, my Rolli' like Disney Land
I’m from the streets, I used to sleep in my minivan
Whippin' grams you only wavy on Instagram
I been wavy since niggas was on minute plans
You keep talkin' about times is hard
You can make time easy go grind some hard
When I was locked up, bitches ain’t write no kites
I miss Dirt Bike Rell, he was nice on bikes
Rest In Peace my nigga Bleak he was killin' em too
You be rappin' bout foreigns, I be bringing them through
Uh, Just left Barney’s, call freak for a fresh cut
Why these rappers keep talkin' bout they next up?
I look better dressed down when you dressed up
It’s OnDek, you need a G5 to catch up
No picks, a bad bitch can get the curve ball
Knock a bird off and then burn down birds off
I’m tired of killin clubs, got me burned out
One night with the gang, now she turned out
Hop out the Bentley, hop in the sprinter
Got tired of losing, I’m living life as a winner
Got tired of oodles and noodles, chicken for dinner
They know me in Ruth’s Chris, you a beginner
I gotta private school my son cuz I ain’t go to school
What the fuck you snitch for when you know the rules?
33 shots in the 57
Boots string hangin' round the Mac 11
Killed my mixtape, intro, outro
Horses in the four-door, it ain’t Ralph tho
You gettin' money, but you told like Alpo
If it’s beef imma let the 40' cal go
Red bottoms with the spikes
My brother drink purple, no sprite
She gave me top, I ain’t even bite
I should do it to her friends out of spite
You already know what it is man.
Keep sleeping
Wake the game up.
Quilly 2 nigga.
What it do, uhh, uh