| Uh homie, you don’t really want me to shine
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| Like Boston George, ain’t wanna give up his connect to Diego
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| You the type of nigga that wanna come up, but want me to stay low
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| The day I leave this bitch in a body bag, is what you pray fo'
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| But I’m still living and ya’ll haters get mo' mad, with every breath I take
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| Sometime I might spill a nigga, but J. Prince clean up every mess I make
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| So like my quicker picker upper, that’s my bounty nigga
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| My piss dirty but I ain’t smoke, just weed in my brownies nigga
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| You don’t wan' rump with me, I’m riding with that big gun
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| My fifty caliber shoot so far, I call that bitch my Vince Young
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| If it’s really time to merk you homie, I ain’t gon need a rehearsal homie
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| Cause it ain’t gon be a commercial homie, it’s sex money and murder homie
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| Call me Vince Young homie, I got quarterback vision
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| I can see the 5−0's, when they blitzing
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| I see stick up kids, targeting Z-Ro for the sticking
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| So it’s pistols in every room, every bathroom and both kitchens
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| Better go long homie, cause you know I throw long homie
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| But, you don’t wanna catch this pass
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| Touchdown for the S.U.C., we soldiers united for cash
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| Touchdown like Reggie Bush on a break away, who gon catch my ass
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| I don’t know nobody that fast, whoo
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| I’m feeling so Pimp C right now, call me Ro-Chad
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| Yeah your diamonds shine but not like mine, homie that’s your bad
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| I ain’t even a materialistic guy, I don’t love money
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| But you might think I do cause I’ll murder you, if you try to take some from me
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| Look at you now, you can’t even have an open casket you dumb dummy
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| And I sleep real good every night, cause ain’t none of the bullets come from me
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| So don’t make me Floyd Mayweather Jr. your ass
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| Like I was 147 pounds, one hundred AK-47 rounds sit down
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| I’m official, like a referee whistling tougher than bone grissle
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| Put so much lead in your ass, you can be your own pencil
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| Z-Ro the Crooked King of the Ghetto, yeah homie that’s my name
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| And I’m healthy as a motherfucker, with seventy carats up in my chain
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| Now I ain’t never been to 106th &Park, and sat on the couch
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| But I’m a legend in this rap, in the South (ah-choo)
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| Excuse me I’m allergic to bitch niggaz, I’m bitch niggaz intolerant
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| So my stomach cr&up, whenever I run into bitch niggaz
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| I’m rolling in my Kobe Bryant, on top of Deuce MacCallister’s
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| I’m always in a fo' do', but I ain’t never got no passengers
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| Good weed good drank, big money mayn
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| I don’t get along with ya’ll fellas, but I get money mayn
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| Most of the rappers in my city, wanna see me flop
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| Cause when I came back home from jail, that’s when all they shows stopped
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| I got quarterback vision, I ain’t never been sacked
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| And I don’t walk with fifty niggaz either, how you love that |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Quarterback Vision, artist - Z-Ro. Album song Cocaine (Screwed), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп