Rage Quit Songtext
von BabyTron
Rage Quit Songtext
(Ooh shit, that′s a Danny G beat)
Ooh shit
I had a D in English class but I was grade A with that reader writer
Picked up pints and peas up out the farm, I feel like Peter Piper
I was thinking bigger, y'all can use it, we gon′ be suppliers
Ron stay with a script like he Peter Jackson
Diving in the crowd to catch a play, that's Derek Jeter action
Set up shop in Iowa and fuck up Cedar Rapids
I got some chicken, cheese, and green like a Caesar salad
Yamaha, brodie sliding on a ATV
Supreme Timbs, came a long way from ACGs
He a role player on his team, call him "KCP"
Blowing Russian Creams, Drac'd up like the KGB
Smoking two Runtz, it taste like yams mixed with mac and cheese
Tryna drive a manual off Quagen, I might smack a tree
Eric Emanuel, the shorts chilling at the beach
MIA, all these plugs, I might grab a key
A dollar in the drum, he better have some juggernog
Bitch, I′m over up, nah, I ain′t no underdog
White sticks, chocolate tint, lens like a Wonderball
Bitch acting weird, ain't need a knife when I cut her off
I was off the porch, you live the sports life
We can split the pizza, tell my bro to grab his fourth slice
First classer, it say main cabin when you board flights
Finna tear yo bitch walls down like it′s Fortnite
Not to mention that the robbers looting in yo crib
Sipping out the baby bottle but ain't drooling in a bib
While I′m popping, let go, I been fooling since a kid
When I'm shooting at his rim I ain′t hooping in a gym
I done caught a hat
Spinning in a Redeye, fucked around and caught a flat
Fuck some morning sex, you ever woke up, caught a jack
That's what get me going
I'ma short him, if he call back, tell him my digi broken
Shit
Blick with the button, hit an opp and I′ma change his channel
Burberry straight from London if you see me play the flannel
Half a ′bow of Backpack Boyz, you out here facing Camels
So much white up in the kitchen, cuddy the Michelin Man
Touchdown with blue and yellow, looking like Michigan fans
Cut it out and take me to the plug, you be middling grams
Everybody wanna be a thug till shit hitting the fan, damn
If they check the scoreboard, they gon' rage quit
Lesson learned, life a book, that′s another page flip
Being safe ain't really safe so, bitch, we armed and dangerous
I ain′t worried 'bout a thang, I′m in the hood dangling
I ain't give a fuck from the start
Never had no trust in my heart
Thousand dollar total, use a punch for the cart
I'ma catch Alzheimer′s when this blunt getting spark, for real
(Ooh shit, that′s a Danny G beat)
Ooh shit
I had a D in English class but I was grade A with that reader writer
Picked up pints and peas up out the farm, I feel like Peter Piper
I was thinking bigger, y'all can use it, we gon′ be suppliers
Ron stay with a script like he Peter Jackson
Diving in the crowd to catch a play, that's Derek Jeter action
Set up shop in Iowa and fuck up Cedar Rapids
I got some chicken, cheese, and green like a Caesar salad
Yamaha, brodie sliding on a ATV
Supreme Timbs, came a long way from ACGs
He a role player on his team, call him "KCP"
Blowing Russian Creams, Drac'd up like the KGB
Smoking two Runtz, it taste like yams mixed with mac and cheese
Tryna drive a manual off Quagen, I might smack a tree
Eric Emanuel, the shorts chilling at the beach
MIA, all these plugs, I might grab a key
A dollar in the drum, he better have some juggernog
Bitch, I′m over up, nah, I ain′t no underdog
White sticks, chocolate tint, lens like a Wonderball
Bitch acting weird, ain't need a knife when I cut her off
I was off the porch, you live the sports life
We can split the pizza, tell my bro to grab his fourth slice
First classer, it say main cabin when you board flights
Finna tear yo bitch walls down like it′s Fortnite
Not to mention that the robbers looting in yo crib
Sipping out the baby bottle but ain't drooling in a bib
While I′m popping, let go, I been fooling since a kid
When I'm shooting at his rim I ain′t hooping in a gym
I done caught a hat
Spinning in a Redeye, fucked around and caught a flat
Fuck some morning sex, you ever woke up, caught a jack
That's what get me going
I'ma short him, if he call back, tell him my digi broken
Shit
Blick with the button, hit an opp and I′ma change his channel
Burberry straight from London if you see me play the flannel
Half a ′bow of Backpack Boyz, you out here facing Camels
So much white up in the kitchen, cuddy the Michelin Man
Touchdown with blue and yellow, looking like Michigan fans
Cut it out and take me to the plug, you be middling grams
Everybody wanna be a thug till shit hitting the fan, damn
If they check the scoreboard, they gon' rage quit
Lesson learned, life a book, that′s another page flip
Being safe ain't really safe so, bitch, we armed and dangerous
I ain′t worried 'bout a thang, I′m in the hood dangling
I ain't give a fuck from the start
Never had no trust in my heart
Thousand dollar total, use a punch for the cart
I'ma catch Alzheimer′s when this blunt getting spark, for real
(Ooh shit, that′s a Danny G beat)
Writer(s): Bobby Eli, James Johnson, Prusan Jeffrey Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
