WWYD ft. MajorPaper Quon Lyrics

It's time to pop like some kettle corn

I'm the GOAT, all I need is a set of horns

These niggas speak on my name when I'm not there, see me, shake it up just like Bella Thorne

Lame bitch, gotta know that you hella corn

Youngin ball out in Florida like Trevor Lawrence

Or maybe like Jimmy, or Brady, or Tua, I'm balling so hard I might tear a groin

Aye we having bitches and bankrolls

Ain't a place in the city I can't go

I'm the hardest, can't say you ain't know

Niggas with whips, getting back for Django

That's a caption, I know what you came fo'

Yeezy the boots and moncler for the raincoat

Ain't a sweet thing like Rufus and Chaka, you gotta know y'all running out, it's the same jokes

But she want the fat cat, all in her fat cat

I like to stand when I hit off the Black Jack

Labels must come with that bread like a flap jack

Still running shit, I'm the quarter and halfback

The snakes be exposing they self so I sat back

The wood better ash that

Got off on a scat pack

Got so small in the rearview, couldn't tell it was matte black

Young nigga fly like up, up, and away

I ain't running from smoke, took a puff to the face

V Diamond cut like a fucking filet

Shit get serious, so I had enough of the play

Get money, but don't put it up where you stay

These niggas be roguish, (Uh)

These bitches be bogus

Come on open yo heart to some pain from a poet

Aye it's getting critical, barely breathing

4 P's in the M, it's a early evening

Why they hating on me, care to share the reason

Hope they go thru a heart break and tear to pieces

Looking for me, they know where to reach me

In my cup, this is drank not a pair of Reese's

They wasn't having no sauce til I shared the seasoning

Gave my heart to the game, and told her to keep it

Keep me some Major Paper, cause this paper major

Got a tub on me, but this water flavored

Drop a dub on em, but I'm not a Laker

Plenty hoes on me, let me call my Tailor

Yeah I'm out of favors, fuck these bitch niggas

Gotta call em traitors, As-salamu alaikum

I can temple fade em, that's without the razor

Jumping like a raver

Double this

Triple that

Put a 4 on em

I don't tit for tat

We can roll on it

Where my fucking black

Light a stove on em

Where the fucking match

Left em sore from it

This that, in ya sack

What a lit high

He can't give it back

Call it Sky High

This that super package

Now I'm floating on clouds nigga, waiting for a kick back

Feeling like they ain't gone come up with it

Cause having balls really come with feelings

Testosterone, got him out position

My move strong, knock em off his pivot

Offtwo phones, greening like I'm Cricket

Thistwo goals, hood nigga vivid

No shoes, clothes, and still will fit the image

Now, who told ya you was fit to blemish

Sudoku, ya numbers kind of iffy

Ya hit four stores, and still ain't like a picture

This JoJo, K-Ci get to tripping

Four Loko, the hood nigga sipping

I think they kind of like when I revisit

The thoughts of a nigga from the trenches

The cloth you niggas cut from senseless

What would you do if acting wasn't pictured

What would you do if acting wasn't pictured