Big Q - Vantage Point

Umm
Timbs and puffy jackets like it's 1993
Mobbin' in the streets
Chillin' with my muthafuckin' peeps
Friday the 13th
This is Jason with no mask on
36 Chambers
Well, I'm bout to turn the gas on
Ain't worried bout no other singers
I just keep on poppin' my shit
Poppin' her clit
Droppin' hits like I got butterfingers
They lookin' like, I ain't know he could rap
He always bumping R&B when he ride through the trap
But man, that nigga ill
They like, yeah, that nigga cold
Always talkin' somethin real
Yeah, he rap it like he knows
Man, look at all these hoes
That's dressin' up for his shows
And everywhere he goes
He actin' like he got dough, so
Natural reaction, man, let's rob this nigga, Q
He won't even know what hit him, man
He won't know what to do
Ol' soft ass, scary lil' bitch
We gon' take all of his shit
And he better not snitch
Nope
Umm
Well let's wait until the sun go down and it darken up
Put on that How to Rob
Let's sit back and spark it up
You know we do this on the daily
Snatching purses from ladies
Off that white and some Four Lokos
You know we actin' crazy
Cuz the block don't really pay me
On the real I'm just too lazy
To go and get a 9 to 5 cuz that shit ain't gon' pay me either
I'm tryina get them new chains and them new sneakers
So, now he bumping 2 Chainz, then he blew the speakers
Cop pull up slow and ask 'em what they waiting on
So much ice on his mind, they ask 'em what they skating on
Which one of you's quarterbackin' tryina get they Peyton on
Dumbasses - license and registration, homes
Oh, I see here you got a few priors
Man, that's old news
So, you calling me a liar, boy?
I smelled it when I walked up
I know you got that fire, boy
Pretty soon I'll have yo ass singing like a choir boy
You think you a lil' thug, ha?
You think you bad because you steal and sell drugs, ha?
Well, I'm the law round here
This is Texas, zero tolerance
And that's the type of shit we don't just sweep under the rug, bruh
Well shit, we ain't got nothing on us
That's funny - that shit wasn't even brought up
You snitchin' on yourself
That's how muthafuckers get caught up
Pussyholes softer than donuts
Slow up
Back up bout to roll up
Hold up
Ha
Yeah
Yeah
Umm
Meanwhile, I'm on my muhfuckin' style
I'm on my muhfuckin' grind
You haters could never stop mine
You would have to pop nines to stop mine
You ain't got no heart so you'd have to stop mine to stop mine
You really should just stop crying and stop lying
Start trying to find something more productive to do witcho time
Cuz I'm on my J Cole shit
What Dreams May Come
From all this work we getting done
Makin' music, having fun
Feel me
Yeah
I said, I said, I said
I'm on my J Cole shit
What Dreams May Come
From all this work we getting done
Makin music, having fun, yeah
No hook on this one
Just stop look and listen

Written by:
Quivan Adames

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave

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