Quadeca - Formula lyrics
[Quadeca - Formula lyrics]
() Ayy
When I walk up in the scene
I hear a orchestra
Now everybody tellin' me I
Don't perform enough (Nah)
My math teacher told me that
I'd never be shit (What, ayy, what?)
And now
I'm searched more then the quadratic formula
(Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Ayy, I got the formula, I got the formula
(Nah) you got the sauce, but goddamn
I got the formula, ayy
(Got the formula, ayy)
People always asking "Ben
Why you record so much?" ("Why?")
I got to fry up all
These rappers quick, like, order up
(Ding)
Formula, like I'm Mr krabs
I change and transform it up
You stuck in the past
I wear Supreme goggles to my science lab
(I really do)
Yeah, it hurts to write this song
'cause I don't like to brag (Nah)
And now I've tied myself up, like a Nike Mag'
People love to criticize me for
The life I've had (True)
They make it 'bout white and black
Like I'm Michael Jack' (Ayy)
I make these haters look confused, like it's
Dora askin' where Swipper at, ayy, ayy, ayy
(Wow, ayy)
Yeah, I'm supreme, 'cause I got it on me
Now they copy that like a walkie talkie
And I'm feelin' like they really
Want to stop me
Tryna fold my paper like it's origami
Wanna justify the hate, they call
Me cocky, and I am
'cause your girl call me 'Papi'
Tryna take their shot like
It's the paparazzi
I'm a facts machine up in a lot of copies
Ayy, still sayin' "Who would'a thought?"
Like who would'a guessed it? Heh
Haven't lifted weights in two years
But somehow, I'm always flexin', yeah
If you really want to find
The answer to your question
Here is where you should look:
Want the secret to the sauce
Motherfucker? Better go and find a cookbook
Yeah
When I walk up to the scene
I hear a orchestra
Now everybody tellin' me I
Don't perform enough
(I don't perform enough)
My math teacher told me that
I'd never be shit (Nah)
And now
I'm searched more than the quadratic formula
(Ayy, yeah)
Ayy, I got the formula, I got the formula
(Ayy) you got the sauce, but goddamn
I got the formula, ayy
(I got the formula)
People always askin', "Ben
Why you record so much?"
("Why you record so much?")
I got to fry up all
These rappers quick, like, order up
(Ding)
When I walk up in the scene
I hear a orchestra
Now everybody tellin' me I
Don't perform enough (Nah)
My math teacher told me that
I'd never be shit (What, ayy, what?)
And now
I'm searched more then the quadratic formula
(Ayy, ayy, ayy)
Ayy, I got the formula, I got the formula
(Nah) you got the sauce, but goddamn
I got the formula, ayy
(Got the formula, ayy)
People always asking "Ben
Why you record so much?" ("Why?")
I got to fry up all
These rappers quick, like, order up
(Ding)
Formula, like I'm Mr krabs
I change and transform it up
You stuck in the past
I wear Supreme goggles to my science lab
(I really do)
Yeah, it hurts to write this song
'cause I don't like to brag (Nah)
And now I've tied myself up, like a Nike Mag'
People love to criticize me for
The life I've had (True)
They make it 'bout white and black
Like I'm Michael Jack' (Ayy)
I make these haters look confused, like it's
Dora askin' where Swipper at, ayy, ayy, ayy
(Wow, ayy)
Yeah, I'm supreme, 'cause I got it on me
Now they copy that like a walkie talkie
And I'm feelin' like they really
Want to stop me
Tryna fold my paper like it's origami
Wanna justify the hate, they call
Me cocky, and I am
'cause your girl call me 'Papi'
Tryna take their shot like
It's the paparazzi
I'm a facts machine up in a lot of copies
Ayy, still sayin' "Who would'a thought?"
Like who would'a guessed it? Heh
Haven't lifted weights in two years
But somehow, I'm always flexin', yeah
If you really want to find
The answer to your question
Here is where you should look:
Want the secret to the sauce
Motherfucker? Better go and find a cookbook
Yeah
When I walk up to the scene
I hear a orchestra
Now everybody tellin' me I
Don't perform enough
(I don't perform enough)
My math teacher told me that
I'd never be shit (Nah)
And now
I'm searched more than the quadratic formula
(Ayy, yeah)
Ayy, I got the formula, I got the formula
(Ayy) you got the sauce, but goddamn
I got the formula, ayy
(I got the formula)
People always askin', "Ben
Why you record so much?"
("Why you record so much?")
I got to fry up all
These rappers quick, like, order up
(Ding)