Quarantine

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Baglife Tee] Ayy, I'm just talkin' rude I went and got me a bag before I finished school I call my nigga Mad Max the way he keep the tool He just bought a brand new Glock, that bitch hold fifty-two [Verse 2: YSR Pitt] Niggas trippin' in the club, we finna shoot up Rube's We had to shut that bitch down, you must ain't see the news You can see the fake in the niggas that wanna see you lose A nigga said he robbed me, that shit April Fools A bitch said she loved me, I said, "I hate you too" Fuckin' this bitch from the back, I made her coochie poot We rollin' up top shelf, he smokin' rudy-poo We been fuckin' niggas' hoes, but that ain't nothin' new Your nigga in the county gettin' bullied, heard he shined his shoes Told the police we mechanic workers 'cause we ride with tools Heard he tryna hide from us, but we findin' you See it in your eyes, you a bitch, who you lyin' to? [Verse 3: YSR Gramz] I feel like Pac, middle finger, nigga, fuck y'all Got your ass beat in front of your family, should've jumped dog I'm sick niggas really gettin' fake Runtz off I'ma drop a hundred-somethin' tapes, then take a month off Fucked the bitch one time, like her light bills, cut her off Put a scope on my AR for niggas runnin' off A hundred ball before the rap deal, I think I'm Young Dolph So many poles in this whip like we gon' golf [Verse 4: Baglife Tee] I'm finna trip around this bitch, grab the automatic Set they ass up, use they ass for target practice My hitman throwin' bullets, he quarterbackin' Paid a thousand for some big B's, got 'em out of Saks Fifth Paid a thousand for some damn weed, now I'm just relaxin' Poured an eight of the green lean, got me walkin' backwards I'm the face of my damn team, you can call me captain [Verse 5: YSR Pitt] Church man owed me for some weed, had to beat the pastor Bitch called me broke, I can't see, I bought your mink lashes Pink Triple S's, these bitches look like Pink Panther Bitch said she got a boyfriend and we still ran her I be lil' brotherin' y'all niggas, boy, you Eli Manning Put a thirty clip in the Glock because I hate the standard You ain't gettin' no PT, boy, you Tyson Chandler Sick you thought your main bitch was loyal, my nigga still rammed her [Verse 6: YSR Gramz] I'm sick he snitchin', thought he was gettin' out, them niggas still jammed him He said "All hands, no grabbin'," but I still slammed him Pop a nigga, then throw him in the hood bandit Before this rap shit, I was sellin' the whole hood candy Told the bitch, "Eat this dick, stop tryna do it fancy" So many tools in this bitch, nigga, Handy Mandy This bitch gettin' on my nerves, bro, pass a Xanny Put these phones in your name, we gon' take 'em to Ramsey Go Go Wireless [Verse 7: YSR Pitt, YSR Gramz & Baglife Tee] Shoot that nigga whip up, leave it tireless He said he wanna drive to Kansas, we done hired him He fucked around and got us pulled over, we done fired him [Outro: YSR Pitt] Hah, get your dumb ass on