[Intro: Quilly]

Nana! Yeah yeah! Nana!

[Verse 1: Quilly]

I got a big amount, I think I'm the biggest out
She gon' get us all lined up, that bitch got the biggest mouth
She irking, dam near blew my high
Before she blow it, I'ma kick her out
Started off in the basement, Big Tigger; need a bigger house
Cream soda; throw a 4 on it
Silk scarf wit the skull on it
Wooden floors; you can bowl on it
Keep a secret; Mason Margielas
I might have to put my soul on it
Moonwalkin' then I roll on it
Shit lit, put the stove on it, I be writing for your favorite rapper
Quilly soundin' like Hov on it
Need some syrup wit my Pancakes
You don't even know the handshake
In the field, I should landscape
I record, I don't hangout, bending in a bentley
Bout to bang out
Servin' junkies out the window
You ain't heavy, get your (?)
Talkin' reckless on my IPhone, I should sock you like Kimbo
You ain't buy it, that's a high rental
Milly rockin' out the hospital
(?) shine a couple racks on me, in them foreigns
Back to back homie
If I pop you, you gon' rat on me, Alexander, that McQueen on me
Good work; got the fiends on me
HI-TECH; got the lean on me
Hit her wit that Anaconda n***a, all foreign, all designer n***a
I'm the future, you desiigner n***a
Everything I do, for certain n***a
You're a maybe, sort of, kinda n***a
You already know we rockin' n***a!
FN wit the clip full, silent dog food wit my pitbull
In the Bentley, get my balls sucked
Shine the choppa, get my dick pulled
Run it back, she love my adlibs, I fell asleep on a bad bitch
HI-TECH got me real high, bad boy; let me woosah!
[Talking: Quilly]

Let it breathe. Ha, I ain't even write the last 16. (where them adlibs come from?)
I just be saying this shit, I don't know where this shit comin' from
(Hey, June turn me up)
We gon a lil' bit more (I'm droppin' this right now, tonight)
Hold up

[Verse 2: Quilly)

Uh, Andy Griffith wit the theme songs
Hakeem Olajuwon; dream on
I just rap and it went pop, checkerboards on my flip flops
Dont check me, check your bitch n***a
You think she bad but she hit n***a
Everything I drink, hit n***a
Better watch what you sip n***a
If you want me baby come get me
Come up shows, flow to jails, fuck wit me
"Oh my god, he gotta Gun wit em"
Better run, better run Ricky

[Talking/Ending: Quilly]

"Oh my god, he gotta Gun wit em"
Better run, better run Ricky
Haha, let me hear this shit from the top