[Intro: Quin NFN]
Pew, pew, pew
Brra, hol' on, pow, pow, pow, pow (Hol' on)
Cio
[Chorus: Quin NFN]
Hol' on, gang, hol' on (Grra)
Got on and fell off, but I'm back and I'm better (I'm better)
They know lil' Quin'll go crash out whenever
But I'm steady focused on gettin' to that cheddar
They call me Chester
I get the high for the lesser
I could show you how to stretch 'em
He think his green like a sneeze, we'll bless him
Drew Brees, this a 9 millimeter, don't measure (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
She, she, she shakin' ass for the free, I finessed her
Too many racks, I'ma need a collector
Still servin' packs, nigga, I'm the possessor
Big bankroll pockets on Nutty Professor
He claim he a flexer, we run in his pocket
Drac' got tits, need a bra on the Bonnie
Whole lotta fits when you walk in the closet
We stake out and pop his ass like a narcotic
[Verse 1: Quin NFN]
Hol' on, gang, hol' on
Quit speakin', quit speakin' on me, nigga, speak on your partners
And I'm not a pilot, but play with them choppers
We came to the club with them killers and robbers
Whole lotta hoes and a whole lotta bottles
Whole lotta gangsters, a whole lotta models
We drinkin' drank, sip it right out the bottle
He dove in the streets, should've had on some goggles (Hold on)
They really feel how I'm comin' and like how I kick it
He scared of an onion, ain't know how to flip it
I bag up a bow, get him gone in some minutes
You come grab some mo', I'ma lower the ticket
They stealin' my flow, but don't know how to spit it
Just dope in this wood, we ain't rollin' up midget
That nigga cap, he belong with a fitted
Take off to the top, but belong in them trenches (Gang)
When I'm makin' plays, only time you'll see me (See me)
Spit a verse, they rewind it and repeat
All the opps really vibe to my CD
Von steady throwing up the trey like CP (Ha)
I'ma slide with a MAC like PC
Fendi Crip, but his partner and 'em GD
Burn a nigga ass quick, give him BD (Baow, baow)
I can't leave out the hood 'cause they need me
R-Racks in the vault
Got them racks in the vault, I don't gotta ask what it costs
Immaculate sauce, ayy, get the bag and I'm lost
Soon as the package get off, then it's back to the loft
Pour up some Act' in this raw, I'm not average at all
I've been in the game, I ain't packin' a ball
Nigga talkin' 'bout he strapped, but ain't packin' at all (Baow, baow)
When you havin' your way, you'll cop it quicker
I know bitch niggas act like they got a nigga
If he diss, then he drunk, took some shots of liquor
And I'm already poppin', don't gotta diss you
I stay humble in per' 'cause I'm solid, nigga
Don't be thinkin' it's sweet 'cause my kindness, nigga
I ain't flexin' too often, I got it, nigga
Self-defense anything tryna stop me, nigga
Pew, pew, pew
Brra, hol' on, pow, pow, pow, pow (Hol' on)
Cio
[Chorus: Quin NFN]
Hol' on, gang, hol' on (Grra)
Got on and fell off, but I'm back and I'm better (I'm better)
They know lil' Quin'll go crash out whenever
But I'm steady focused on gettin' to that cheddar
They call me Chester
I get the high for the lesser
I could show you how to stretch 'em
He think his green like a sneeze, we'll bless him
Drew Brees, this a 9 millimeter, don't measure (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
She, she, she shakin' ass for the free, I finessed her
Too many racks, I'ma need a collector
Still servin' packs, nigga, I'm the possessor
Big bankroll pockets on Nutty Professor
He claim he a flexer, we run in his pocket
Drac' got tits, need a bra on the Bonnie
Whole lotta fits when you walk in the closet
We stake out and pop his ass like a narcotic
[Verse 1: Quin NFN]
Hol' on, gang, hol' on
Quit speakin', quit speakin' on me, nigga, speak on your partners
And I'm not a pilot, but play with them choppers
We came to the club with them killers and robbers
Whole lotta hoes and a whole lotta bottles
Whole lotta gangsters, a whole lotta models
We drinkin' drank, sip it right out the bottle
He dove in the streets, should've had on some goggles (Hold on)
They really feel how I'm comin' and like how I kick it
He scared of an onion, ain't know how to flip it
I bag up a bow, get him gone in some minutes
You come grab some mo', I'ma lower the ticket
They stealin' my flow, but don't know how to spit it
Just dope in this wood, we ain't rollin' up midget
That nigga cap, he belong with a fitted
Take off to the top, but belong in them trenches (Gang)
When I'm makin' plays, only time you'll see me (See me)
Spit a verse, they rewind it and repeat
All the opps really vibe to my CD
Von steady throwing up the trey like CP (Ha)
I'ma slide with a MAC like PC
Fendi Crip, but his partner and 'em GD
Burn a nigga ass quick, give him BD (Baow, baow)
I can't leave out the hood 'cause they need me
R-Racks in the vault
Got them racks in the vault, I don't gotta ask what it costs
Immaculate sauce, ayy, get the bag and I'm lost
Soon as the package get off, then it's back to the loft
Pour up some Act' in this raw, I'm not average at all
I've been in the game, I ain't packin' a ball
Nigga talkin' 'bout he strapped, but ain't packin' at all (Baow, baow)
When you havin' your way, you'll cop it quicker
I know bitch niggas act like they got a nigga
If he diss, then he drunk, took some shots of liquor
And I'm already poppin', don't gotta diss you
I stay humble in per' 'cause I'm solid, nigga
Don't be thinkin' it's sweet 'cause my kindness, nigga
I ain't flexin' too often, I got it, nigga
Self-defense anything tryna stop me, nigga
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!