Lights Out (freestyle) - Quilly Lyrics
By: Admin | Artist: Q quilly | Published: 2024-20-09T17:51:44:00+07:00
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Lirikku.ID - Lights Out (freestyle) - Quilly Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Lights Out (freestyle) - Quilly Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton Q quilly. Dengan chord yang disajikan, pemula atau penggemar musik dapat dengan mudah memainkan lagu ini dengan gitar mereka sendiri. Kami menyajikan chord dengan akurasi tinggi sehingga pemain dapat mengikuti alunan musiknya dengan baik. Juga, kami akan memberikan informasi tambahan mengenai lirik lagu dan mungkin beberapa tips untuk menyempurnakan permainan gitar. Konten ini cocok untuk penggemar musik yang ingin belajar lagu baru atau bagi mereka yang ingin menikmati kesenangan bermain musik dengan gitar.
Silahkan disimak Lights Out (freestyle) - Quilly Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.[intro: quilly]
yeah, this sh-t sound good brent
i like this (we keepin’ all that)
turn the beat up some more in my headphones
(b-tch i’m all that)
[verse 1: quilly]
n-gg-s’ shot me, i ain’t even die
5 30s, i ain’t even high
told my girl “yeah, i’m cheatin’ b-tch”
f-ck these hoes, i don’t need to lie
blue d-cky, when i’m in the club
pair of b-tters, i ain’t even fly
stevie wonder ribbon in the sky
farrakhan, yeah i need a pie
plain rollie, no ice in it, cr-p table, put the dice on it
home in (?) tryna clean the house, whats the bet?
put your life on it. perc d-ck; got your wife on it
your loyalty gotta price on it, my dope a 10 got em moon walking
and the stamp got mike on it
i got a dot on me now, soft
i’m rockin’ it now, broke n-gg-s’ caught me lackin’
tell em come rob me right now
this year, i’ma smoke somethin’, go to jail, i’ma poke somethin’
i ain’t never runnin’ out of work, call (?) then a boat comin
funk flex got a bomb on me, lunch money; got a dime on me
i can f-ck your aunt, sister, mom; prolly got your grandma on me
16, used to run the spot, 17 wit a f-ckin’ block
out of pocket, hittin’ b-tches raw, got burnt by a f-ckin’ thot
give a bad b-tch 5 minutes, i don’t care if she c-m or not
hi-tech, i’ma clean the jar, every drop; can’t waste that
d.a. want my case back, call shaka; he gon’ spank that
p.diddy told you “take that”, hold up brent, bring the b-ss back
i bought your b-tch a pair of knee pads
mom think i need rehab, take my shot wit a tea bag
hit my girl’s cousin, now she mad
made it up with another purse, she blew my high;
popped another perc
b-tch, you talkin’ to the wave lord, sold her offsh-r-
now she wanna surf
uh, paid in full; money mitch
you’re pocket watching; uncle ice
you just rode another d-ck, i just caught another flight
nasty wit the flow, nothin’ nice, this just somethin’ light
she dm’d me her number this mornin’, i bet i f-ck tonight!
i mariah carey’d it, jim carey; carry sh-t
smokers on some “losing isaiah”, halle berry sh-t
no qualitest or mgp, only berry sip
money in the camens, i could dig it up and bury it
fresh home, every time i drop, it’s a heat wave
call me after 9, i made a dime off the prepaid
moncler onesies, i was born wavy
side b-tch draw’n in my comments actin’ crazy
transport the white like i’m drivin’ ms. daisy
i can go felipe’s or 3 wings, rice and gravy
all i ever wanted was a rollie rollie
i’m in an audi doin doughnuts, holy moly
they had me in the jail, no bail in a dipsy
i’m tellin’ shaka johnson “get me home fore’ they forget me”
i hit a b-tch and drop her off, spin in like a frisbee
dope like the 60s, the stamp; walt disney
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