Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Quill, artist - Ubi. Date of issue: 25.07.2019
Song language: English
The Quill |
| I didn’t feel anything, uhh |
| I feel fine |
| I don’t feel tired |
| I-Is this real life? |
| Yeah, this is real when I dip the quill, blood fit to spill |
| Was content to just sit and chill |
| But now my head blown up like Mr. Bill |
| I don’t flip my image just to fit the bill |
| Or get with gimmicks that the kids will feel |
| A couple of face tattoos with a cup of lean |
| Tri colored hair with prescription pills |
| At the pharmacy where kids get the blues |
| On my Carter III tryna get the Views |
| If this tune don’t fit your groove |
| I’m sure Cardi B got the hits for you |
| Pardon me if how big I grew makes it hard to see |
| I eclipse your view |
| Wouldn’t spend your muse if the party scene was a centrifuge |
| I been sent to you with a |
| Message of impending doom |
| When I’m riding through on my Paul Revere |
| In love and warfare all is fair |
| At high noon you’ll die, now say all your prayers |
| Dollar daredevil balling there |
| U-B-I with The Palmer Squares |
| You’d lose your mind in the hall of mirrors |
| I’d just use the time to play solitaire |
| Upper tier, yeah we right there |
| You could see my flare when I shoot the sky |
| When two divide my vibe unified |
| Like a Shiite cleric with a Sunni tribe |
| True to life, why dispute the lie |
| We might stare at your cutie pie |
| If I listen close when you play your song |
| That don’t mean I care for what you describe |
| Pass the flower, roll up nug in the after hour |
| When they close the club, holding bud 'cause I know the plug |
| But when they ask around, I’m like shoulder shrug |
| Then we pour up cups, half the time I don’t know what’s what |
| Spun the globe, now they show us love |
| I don’t show a buzz, I just throw up dubs |
| Y’all know what’s up |
| I run from Oakland to Buffalo on a bumpy road to my bungalow |
| Hustle float then I puff a bowl |
| Going up in smoke like the oven broke |
| Out of sight, Hubble scope |
| You won’t see me, that’s rubber sole |
| Jumping over another foe on a bungee rope in the thunder dome |
| Able-bodied, I take karate |
| Sweep the leg like my name was Johnny |
| Ichiban when I speak a rhyme |
| But the people wanna keep hating on me |
| Got a predilection for teaching lessons |
| Egocentric, I need attention |
| Each and every release I bless |
| Is a feed the press never seems to mention |
| Been scraping the bottom barrel |
| Cape Fear and I’m Bob De Niro |
| American Outlaw, Colin Farrell |
| Finna drop it on 'em like a bombardero |
| Goddamn, it’s the return of the fly |
| A mystic misfit burning alive |
| On point like a surgical knife |
| Avert your eyes, say word to the wise |
| You could find Ac pantomiming |
| Even if you tie both hands behind him |
| Can’t lie, I’m a tad bit shy but I move fast forward and rewindin' |
| It’s all part of the grand design |
| Mastermind with an ax to grind |
| You cats are way past your prime |
| It’s asinine how we rap just to pass the time |
| Woke up in an opium den |
| Rolled outta bed and I’m already spent |
| It gets hard to be jovial |
| When you become everything that you’ve grown to resent |
| I’ve never been slow |
| Ready to go like I’m holding a rodeo bull and a pen |
| Every show is a global event at the podium over and over again |
| Get your hands high (hands up) |
| One time for the disenfranchised (one time) |
| Two times for the capsized ships (two times) |
| Finna cram my dick in your bitch’s backside |
| I’m underrated, run the race with prosthetic legs |
| Don’t ever question my fucking greatness |
| Texas Chainsaw, shred the face off your severed head |
| Back on top, high like an astronaut and not not just blasting off |
| Foam at the mouth like a rabid dog |
| A soldier without any camouflage |
| I’m an open target, jump street, broken-hearted |
| One seed grows the garden |
| I know that you know what I spoke and recorded |
| And skin is the stone that it’s carved in |
| Row, row, rowin' your boat |
| Sink your teeth in and hope that it floats |
| Smoke a carton through a hole in my throat |
| Live for the weak and alone so long as you’re meeting your quota |
| Recidivistic, a bit sadistic, a minor detail, a big statistic |
| A sick and twisted, religious mystic |
| Find a female to hit the skins with |
| Sock it to ya, hallelujah, knock 'em dead, plot revenge |
| Montezuma, I really am through with this shit |
| 6−6-6, privy to Lucifer’s tricks |
| Making me nauseous, spewing at this |
| Aim at the target and shoot to the clip |
| Soon to be licking the wounds |
| Truth is, I’d be stupid to loosen my grip |
| Usually rhyme when I talk man |
| Used to get by with a Walkman |
| Any sudden movement, it skips |
| You see a shoe and assume that it fits |
| Do you what Cain did to Abel, making it painful |
| Scooping your brains with a ladle, yuck |
| What are you making excuses? |
| Shut up and take the abuses |
| Term |