Lyrics Rule the World - Quilly

Rule the World

If I ruled the world, I’d lower the coke prices
Raise the welfare, and lower the perc prices
You can pay for a feature even though the flow priceless
Whole team Muslim, we at war like ISIS
300 Deep, I’m the leader, Leonidas
I talk heavy, my mouth dirty, gingivitis
A party for the real niggas, ya’ll not invited
He gettin money but he a rat, ya’ll bitches like it
One nigga break ya’ll heart, ya’ll bitches diking
Powder from columbia, the sour came from Dyckman!
I gave them the plain Jane Rollie, No Icing
Do the right thing with the Red bottoms and spiked it
Helly Hansen on like i’m bout to go hiking
So wavy, Laila Ali, your hoe fight it
Thinking should she fuck me or you, indecisive
Thriller when I get on the mic but I ain’t light-skin
Moonwalk all on the track cuz I’m the nicest
Streets cold, Minnesota Viking, it’s biting!
Internet Gangsta, you gon' kill me with typing
Iron on me, I ain’t fightin', I ain’t Tyson
Quilly, Q-Pac, don’t forget to put the hyphen
All eyes on me, I must be exciting!
Coke in the pyrex pot, drop the ice in
Break the whole pattie pie down, get to slicing
With my NEW-NEW bitch skating in the rover
I’m hot now, I give them bitches the cold shoulder
Never let a side bitch break your house hold up
If she cross that line, then it’s over
Dump my shot, then I’m chasin' it with Folgers
Still high from last week, I’m never sober
Drop a whole dot in the pot, then bag boulders
I fucked your girl and her friends, and you told her
I’m gettin' more money than you and you older
You call that nigga your old head, that nigga owe us
Real ain’t what about you say, it’s what you show us
Every Friday, I touch hills and shoulders
Bullets shampoo, they hittin heads and shoulders
Shoot your lights out like Kobe, niggas' cobras
Paperwork clean, you can check my whole folder
I don’t even club unless they put me on the poster
55 bottles, why the fuck I need a coaster?
I don’t even drink, I’m just standing on the sofa
I don’t make it rain, every dollar go to Sosa
8th of Hi-Tech, fuck around and need a chauffeur
Your man, he the shooter, your just hold the gun (Holster)
Bitch nigga wouldn’t pop bread out the toaster
Fuck in the car if she a hoe like I’m suppose to
Led her ride me, great adventures, roller coasters
We can be friends after that, nothing closer
29, give them calm linens with the loafers
You do it for the radio, I do it for the culture
Killing these rappers, eat their corpse like vultures
I’m a king, I’ma hit your Queen, I’ma poke her
On the strength, you ain’t play your cards right, joker
You hang with a Rat, I rather chill with my smokers
Drop it to the oils like Cappuccino;
Mocha
I got a bomb on me right now, I’m a soldier
Frank Lucas work, I ain’t tell but I told you!
Dope with the Pepsi stamp, minus the soda
Juice in my sprite, pot full of Coca-Cola
Get my scripts from Dr. Pepper, I’ma flex her
Hundred dollar Fanta, 4 O’s, nothing lesser
Pulled up in an Audi, pulled off in a Tesla
Dope Fiends leave the Trap house on a stretcher
I lost a calm 8 but I’m still 7 up, I really leveled up
Ya’ll done woke the devil up
So, I’ma give them hell, fuck it, I’ma break the scale
Put a quarter in the water, it bubble like Ginger-Ale!
My phone pop, I don’t play the block
I’m at the sugar house bussin' traps while I play the slots
Pass the rock off to my youngin', I can’t coach it
The type of grams I put together, I can’t post it
I got a fat bitch, I don’t fuck, I just milk her
I keep it a bean, I ain’t never had a filter!
I turned a bum bitch to a bad bitch, built her
She went left, I took her right back, killed her
The grind like a goldmine, lucky charms in it
Over the pot, Vince Carter, put my arm in it
Trap do the pussy so I’m going hard in it
White came back tan, I Chico DeBarge whipped it!