Quadeca - 13 Styles of Rapping! lyrics

I might sip for half the day

Yeah, might sip for half the day
Swear, make it back today
Fuck a check, I'm fat
It Saturday, yeah  (Gringo Beats)
Foreign whip, I'm winnin', been
On road, windows tinted, huh
Baby, I'm sick, I'm ill-in', she want
Me to have her children, huh
(Lezter) la di da, slob on me knob, yeah
Pass the check, huh, fuck me in the car, huh

Ayy, gang, gang, ayy
Ayy, ayy, gang, gang, ayy

Put that thing up on my lap
You gettin' rearranged
Four Os on this chain, that's a GPA
Runnin' up a check, I been stackin' easy pay
I might pull up wit' a stick
Just add me on GTA i'm the man
Do you understand? Made a hunnid
Bands while I dance yeah, I think I'm gonna
Need more rubber bands, go to France
I might take a chance, but you ain't my mans
Tell that bitch get off my dick
I ain't tryna make no plans

Jee Juh

I'm a maniac, musical mania
A braniac, I make my lyrics
I'm hittin' your cranium
I'm a nut, no macadamia, brain on academia
Get my flow out in
Wakanda, my lyrics Vibranium, huh
I gotta get up to
The tippity-top of hippity-hop
I'm really gettin' a minute to pop
Got to get in the shot
Got to get out the block
Vitamins and my minerals
Military moments of mastery
Maybe the general
Maybe incredible, maybe a man
Maybe an animal
Eat these wack rappers alive
Maybe a cannibal

Uh, yeah!

I was pushin' white, I was Pablo
Runnin' from the feds in my Tahoe
Fuck wit' the clique, pull up to the block
Though (Uh) all of sudden
You gon' ask like "Where the cops go?"
Not home, Dorothy, this a pothole
You a cockroach, swallow, the shop's closed
You might find yourself locked
Behind the wrong doors then when you libre
They gon' tell you that it's not yours

Yeah, they locked me in the cell
They tried to kill me
(They tried to kill me)
I don't want to leave
The city, reppin' Philly, uh
You made a hundred, you can't
Even make a milli', uh
Whip's so icy, make you say
"I'm feelin' chilly", uh, uh
Yeah, I am the man, do you understand?
I don't think you get it, uh, uh (No, no)
Yeah, they tried to murder me, they tried to
Bury my name in a second, uh, uh
(yeah, yeah)
Ballin' like Curry, your vision is blurry
I think you'll regret it, uh, uh
You better sit down on the ground and
Then come on up standin' corrected

Uhhh my dick fat (Uh)
Might just go "Click-clack"
(Uh) , writin' your bitch back
They was talkin' shit? Well
I guess that I missed that
Uhhh i'm too nice wit' it
Itchin' for the throne
Got some new lice in it
I'm hot, but the boy is too col' like Bennet
Like J, I make my pay, I spend it
I wave "Bye" to my kiddy days on my Billy Ray
Huh, tried Oxy, got clean, thanks, Billy Mays

Live in a gray area, all fifty shades
Don't give a fuck, give a F
Like some shitty grades
This that old-school Tyler
This that no-rules Tyler this that
Bully-motherfuckers-in-their-homeschool
Tyler

Yeah, yeah, get that money in my bank
Yeah, heck yeah

Ah, I can't do this tr- haha
I actually like Matt Ox, too
That's- whatever

Huh, huh, I got to breathe in (yeah)
You got a new man? Sorry, I don't see him
I might hit your phone up in the evenin'
(yeah) i miss you and we never had to begin
What's the reason? Tell me
What's the reason?
I'm lookin' for your heart in the
Bottom of my wine glass
Want you more ever since I let the time pass
I can't ignore that I knew
That it would never last, uh gave my heart
That's just somethin' I ain't gettin' back

Solar eclipse in your eyes
I wanna see your hips and your thighs
You know I'm just living my life
I don't think I'm living it right
Like Keemstar, I get right in

Okay, that was fucking stupid

I can't look up to these hoes I'm higher then
And they say their lives is sad
Need to get a violin
But lil' Kodak in a jet
And you know I'm smilin'
Got your bitch up on my line
I'm the one she dialin', i'm wilin'
Yeah, I can't even be
Walkin' 'round the street, huh
I been up at the top, now they down for me
Huh i was makin' all my noise
You was sound asleep
Hustlin', then I made it on
The count of three

I done make a band for the summer, yeah, huh
Huh i just made a milli', that's
A bummer, yeah, huh, huh
I'm Comethazine on Promethazine, yeah, huh
I just made my for the ()

Part XI I: Earl Sweatshirt (2018)

I wasn't born Bible Belt, but my
Mom had a Bible and belt, yeah
(Uh) flow so hot, shit could make fire melt
What's the clientele? I used to be too
Shy to tell how I had felt (yeah)
Now, I don't give a fuck
'cause I'm swimmin' in checks
Like Michael Phelps (Uh)
I'm home alone, gettin' cheddar, no provolone
Lyrics'll crack your brain open
Leave you an open dome only twenty-three
Like the count of my chromosomes
I don't want to dance wit' you
I think I'll just go alone

They don’t want me to go on a trap beat
They just want me to go to the backstreets
Selling rap beefs for some fast cheese
It’s past me wanna steer the wheel
But I’m still stuck up in the backseat
I feel like I’m being driven
By all my passengers i imagine a Tesla
But really I’m in the Acura
All I ever wanted, but fuck
I know I don’t have enough
Got me mad as fuck when I add it up
Like I brag for what? Say they can’t