Philly Nigga Quilly (Ft. Spade-O)

[Intro: Quilly]
Uh, Yeah. This shit feel good
We might not double, adlib, none of that
Just run straight through this jawn

[Verse 1: Quilly]
Dope boys tellin' me to rap about the trap
Backpackers tellin' me to rap about rap
I beat a 4 to 8, I should rap about that
These beats is my (?) and these hooks is my snacks
I go out of town when the block hot
Tap dancing on the work, playin' hop skotch
Seat leaned to the back, seat when I'm swervin'
All these blue hundreds in my pocket, got me nervous
Trigger finger itchin' like I'm percin'
Trap so far in the county, I lose service
I been the shit, you ain't hearin' me
My whole team killin' shit, I'm guilty of conspiracy
I'ma die if they give me life
I don't gamble so I win when I touch the dice
Stuntin' on bummy hoes in my gummy soles
Money standing in my pocket, it don't wanna fold
Walked to the lot, spin off in a drop
6 months rent in the bottom of this pot
Uh, I make it lock, whip whip
If you ain't never help me hustle, you don't get shit
Wanted to ball but they sat me on them benches
I've seen hope, I'm dope like spoons and syringes
Don't "Joe" me, "bro" me, you don't know me
Hokey Pokey, toaster; keep it closely
I'm gettin' money,still hungry like the old me
Young boy, your old head prolly owe me
Rap corny, I listen to oldies
I be chillin' wit niggas' that really sold keys
Yeah, I get it for the low but I'ma tax you
Go head nigga, put on a show and I'ma clap you
It's Quilly, I hope they feel me nigga
A philly nigga that really sound like a philly nigga