Quarterback Lyrics

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Quarterback Lyrics

by BABY BEESH

f/ Mr. Kee



* send corrections to the typist



[Baby Beesh]

Fo sho..

Pass that sweet nigga

And quit bumpin' yo gums

See that shit you be barkin' mayne

I already done

At least twice mutha fucka

Bling-blingin' some ice

The dope game hall of fame

I'm in like Jerry Rice

Money fanatic

This nigga known for shootin' sparatic

Automatic wit the gadget

Lettin' them suckas have it

Like magic, "Abra Cadabra"

Squash the chitter chatter

Your blatter is fin to splatter

When these hollow points scatter

Oh he bald headed, tatted up

And got his swole on

Gang-banged out

Rowdy than get his roll on

Plus he think he hard cuz he just got out the pen

Think I give a fuck

I put hands on that man

I'm from the shoulders

Holdin' kilo's, pounds, and quarters

Smoke wit the smokers

Servin' all you sodas

From border to border

Blaze your quarter on the freeway

I got your mama and your sister havin' 3-ways

Give a fuck nigga!

I'm not trippin'

Baby Bash-a-reeny

What the fuck is you sippin'?

Pimpin' the hood chicken

Mayne, it's off the Richter

Got the game locked like a boa constrictor



[Mr. Kee]

Boy I stay saved out like a playa should

Nigga don't smash out to a whole 'nother hood

Late night, plane flight

With a quart of G's

Black-N-Brown, Ryda Thugz

Keep it all to the good mayne

Still colla poppin'

Still feddy clockin'

Gotta keep this shit knockin'

Cuz me and Beesh be known for flossin'

Game tight stitch like a brand new fit

Like a drop top cad

With an all chrome kit

Top notch bitch who will low-cat trip

Gotta treat 'em all the same

Get 'em off my dick

Shiftin' the fifth

And shake them haters

Cuz they be doin' too much

It's Mr. Kee straight up out the bay

Wit soldiers ready to bust

But the ruger keep rudely

Spittin' slugs be hittin'

Tryin' to act hard

But your sharp as a kitten

Cup cake nigga

Fake ass wigga

West Side Ryda stays unforgiven

Women and cash

But the past ain't my style

Spinnin' out of control

Like I'm diggin' my own grave

But I get paid

Gotta stay thugged up to this lifestyle



Chorus: [Baby Beesh]

Cuz I'm a quarterback

I smoke a quarter sack

Bash-a-reeny fettuccine

Mayne I told you that

Cuz I'm a quarterback

I smoke a quarter sack

Bash-a-reeny fettuccine

Mayne I told you that

Ugh get your gritz on

Get your gritz on, boy get your gritz on

Get your gritz on, get your gritz on

Playboy get your gritz on