Oliver Francis, ​slvter - Think I’m Q Tip lyrics

Oliver Francis

Oliver Francis [Alexander Francis Kelly] Columbia, Missouri, U.S. 🇺🇸

[Oliver Francis, ​slvter - Think I’m Q Tip lyrics]

Shorty, I know you ain't
Drivin' without no papers
I got papers, blunts, bongs
All the ingredients to make a high nigga pie
Ha ha hahaha

Posted in the sticks
Blowin' doja with a bitch
Say she like the way I spit
'cause my rap game nice
Blowin' cigarillo smoke in this
Wrap just right
Shotgun in the trunk, seen them police lights
Pull the car to the side
Put the weed on my nuts
Take the car out of drive
And extinguish the blunt
Big homie in the back and
He grippin' the pump
Remain calm
Be cool 'fore the cop get slumped


It's the backwoods grippin'
Syrup sippin'
Blunt flickin'
Delinquent that you've comе to love
And I push my skin tone when it comе to drugs
Muzzle flash out the back
Look they're catching slugs
In the '03 blazer with them bustin' subs
Shit turnt to eleven, bumpin' Busta Bust
And the marijuana trees that
We puff's a must
Smoke large quantities from dusk to dusk
I'ma tell you one time
"Don't fuck with us"
White Styrofoam cup, sip purple stuff
And you know it ain't shit
For my goons to bust
Still rocking them khakis with a
Crease in the cuff
I ain't poppin' no mollies and
I ain't sippin' no syrup
I'm just smokin' on something potent with
Some girls who deserve it
It's worth it
You worthless with them weak ass flows
All these married rappers acting like
They still got hoes
All these broke rappers rapping like
They still got dough
But we know that you should
Stay in your lane
You're too slow for me
So holler if you smoke crystal meth
Sorry, that was fucking weird

All we do is sit around, smoke weed
Bad bitch at the crib shoo-whee
And the whip so clean
Brand new car with the brand new seats
All we do is sit around, smoke weed
Bad bitch at the crib shoo-whee
And the whip so clean
Brand new car with the brand new seats

Walk to the door, door not open
Got four fat hoes in the four-wide Focus
Four fat burgers in the courtyard lurkin'
With the purses and the ass
White boy surfin' through the
Crown steady chirpin' like
Nigga, what your name be?
That ain't who I came to see
Spittin' silly rhymes that rhyme to
Get your mind right
I'm like 7'5 with the mic in my hand
Pair of Jordan's for the bitches with
The stains in they bed
James Brown with the flow, shit
I'm cruisin' on the low
Two-seater with your ho
Backstab your ass with the quickness
I'm like 55 in the mentions
With the haterade mentions
It's all good though
I know you see me on the low
Old sucka ass, busta ass, pull up in my door
A pair of flip flops with the Chris Rock
Smokin' on the roof top
Chillin' with that new cop
99 Souls was the flow that I used to rock
Now I'm back at it like the
Nigga with the blue top
Now I'm back at it like a
Nigga used to shoot rocks
But I ain't mad at you just incase
You thought I lacked up nigga
Shit, so don't act tough nigga
You need to back up nigga
'Fore these lines start fuckin'
With your mind
And I ain't gonna let 'em
Start fuckin with mines
Even though that ass attract me
I'm runnin' like track meets
Even though that ass attract me
I'm runnin' like track meets
The weed's a power that comes attack me

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