Yung Mal & Lil Quill - Freestyle lyrics

Published

0 370 0

Yung Mal & Lil Quill - Freestyle lyrics

[Intro: Lil Quill] Ha, you know what I'm sayin'? Haha, cool (TD go all the way up) Hmm, ha, [?], yuh, ha, ya dig? Haha, huh? Ha, huh, ha, huh, yeah, huh Huh, uh, haha Yeah, yeah, yeah, let's go [Verse] Came from rags to the riches They whack it around (Rocks), with a Glock, with a gun (Glocks), and it's co*ked (Ok) All of my pendings be hittin' My alteration really feindin' (Clicks), free gang out the box (On god) ni**a poppin' sh*t in my city I really made a quarter milli', didn't get it from wop (Pack, huh? Naw) ni**a really push his choppa trade And this ni**a really feminine (Pussy ass), man finna pop (Let's go) Started from beginning (Start), thug with a top (Top) It in my kidney (Yeah), no weed in this joint (Damn) This ni**a see me (Huh?), get that boy shot (Yes) We gettin' cheese, I don't care what they thought (Gettin' some) All them keep thе block spinnin' [?] (Spinnin') Water, wet on my wrist, get 'еm drownin' (Huh?) Florida, Miami, chillin', I'm vibin' (What?) Louis, in the hood, pocket five-thousand (Let's go) You see my yak, ni**as itchy-itch just like a virus Man, I manifest bread, now I'm shoppin' for houses She can't come 'round unless she tryna arouse me (No) Big body cars on the E-Way, I'm drivin' Ho tryna get it, I'm up, never loungin' Heard ni**a still broke his foot, hang grouchy Hittin' every spot, mama tell me I'm wildin' Grown money, why your money lookin' childish Here for lieutenant, the man like the county Hustle the penis, took her to a ally Her husband and auntie were workin' on smilin' This the sign of the kids steady pilin' I'm fire, hot like a hairdryer (Hot) Be ready, huh, I'm drivin' (Not) Socially beefin', huh, [?] We can go run that boy down to the projects (Let's go) ni**a really leavin' in private, huh Now that leave me to my sidekick (That leave me) Watch this, now we goin' up on this hot sh*t (Goin' up) Fast sh*t, sticks get you wet, not no pad, b*tch (Huh, huh?) Ball like Kareem, this truck, he livin' free (He livin' free) Now we kickin' the cup when I didn't even drink (Huh?) Make this b*tch hit the bush, she didn't even su*k the meat (Huh?) And it's stuck when it's up, only thing I can think I pray 'bout them shooters, ain't cover the safe If it ain't Glock .45, this ain't cullinan crease Huh, we don't click up when we in the street Family man, but I still send a B-L-I-T-Z [Outro] Haha, on god