Quite Frankly Lyrics – BLP KOSHER, Luh Tyler & Trapland Pat
Welcome back Blake
Damn, lemme get that ***
Yeah
We cuttin’ through the Bronx
[?]
Raw paper, championship ring, I got it on my pinky
If you don’t see Luh Tyler, and that Kosher, *** quite frankly
[?]
I’m in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this *** stanky
Got your *** in here, and she throwin’ ass, she keep sayin’ “Spank me”
See, these niggas they ain’t tryna get no bag, don’t know what they thinkin’
***, I ain’t tryna make no friendships ’cause they get to sinkin’
Hoppin’ out on feet, passion pit, I take a walk
Machine *** stays by my side like I’m Megan Fox
Them boys playing air guitar, ***, I really rock
[?] and Jojo in the cut that’s a butchers blood
I’m with Luh Tyler, no creator, odd future turnin’ bright
Under my shirt that shinin’ armor only hittin’ licks tonight
That’s a dog fight, I’m breakin’ that *** up like dana white
Jews name was Mike Cook, he let me cook and pass the mic
Jitter bug, jitterin, I ain’t buggin’, they some lice
Long nights up in that Yoda, had to make a sacrifice
They disrespected ’til they saw I blew up, now they acting right
We be shining bright, the opps mad, flexin’ moissanite
My side *** from Brooklyn
Pull up from that D
Hit that [?]
Niggas mad hattin
Quit cappin’ before we hook him
Don’t understand why they hating
All my chances when I took them
All my hoes on my roster so bad but I don’t want them
Yeah, all my niggas doin’ good but all my *** bad
Man, I swear these hoes be for the team and they be getting passed
See you ran up a lil’ cash but that ain’t finna last
I be stayin’ in my lane, I ain’t nothin’ like you niggas
Man, my ***, he insane, got a button on his pistol
I hit that *** *** like it’s nothing, bet he miss her
I just jumped up on the mic, then I took off like a missle
I’m a big dawg, to you niggas [?]
Can’t get your *** off me, she sees these diamonds and these crystals
I’ma snap every time you put me on the instrumental
Look at my neck, that *** on froze, it get cold like a symbol
Believe what you see, not what you heard
‘Cause it ain’t [?]
25 thousand grams of swappery [?]
[?] ’cause Luh Tyler chain
25 ain’t gon make the cut for that Johnny Dang
I can show you how to make the M’s meet if it ain’t circulation
You gon’ have to really lock in
[?]
[?]
Pat told me stay from ’round the [?] he ain’t Odell
Cash rules everything around me like a Carvel
Amy Whinehouse, I’m sippin’ cherry in the motel
Sir smoke a lot of opps, half baked, Dave Chapelle
Speedin’ to that cheese in Saint Pete, but I’m not russian
Woop dewoo, slid the palm tree with a bakers dozen
He was stretchin’ *** before the fame like he Danny Duncan
Catch him out back and I’ma fry him, that’s a blooming onion