Started Something (Freestyle)

[Verse 1: Quilly]
Let's ball!
Hypothetically speaking, practice what I'm preaching
All my bitches foreign and my son's half rican
The wave'll turn a good girl bad, start tweakin'
Fuck me right now, I'm only here for the weekend
Pockets full of nothing but green cuz I'm a vegan
Niggas' don't want no beef, they all vegan
I be in the streets with Demons, all heathens
If it's on sight where I catch him, I'ma leave him
Book bag filled with blow; Lance Stephens
It's always a nigga that's clamin' he not eatin'
Do me one favor my nigga, stop breathin'
I give a bitch dick and hope, stop reachin'
Ballin' so hard, you hear the screech from my sneakers
When it get cold, book flights, change seasons
Wonder why niggas' is salty, Quilly seasoned
Hotter than a cayenne pepper with chilli season
Wait, let me vent, I'm steal steaming
Do it for the people that doubted and ain't believe him
They want me upstate with browns, I ain't from Cleveland
I make the song cry, fill my pain, speakers bleeding
I lost niggas', my heart broke, I'm still grieving
I don't owe a nigga a penny, we broke even
Floatin' in my inpala, thinkin' bout my next dollar
I really want the wraith, but for now I'm in a squatter
Do it for the times I trapped for a pair of Pradas
I'm a dad, not a baby father
A big difference from a mother and a baby mamma
I see life through my third eye; Illuminati
Bitches like "Quilly hot but he too cocky"
I hit you with the 08' or the new Shotty
My lil' cousin 22, caught two bodies
I'm fuckin bitches, first 48, just caught a new body
I be smellin' like Creed, Quilly the new Rocky
Rappers be catchin' the bus, talkin bout Bugattis
They tryna dress like me, fuckin' up pack money
I hit a lick last week, you think it's rap money
Young bol, I'll make your ol' head trap for me
In the trap spot, make your baby mom bag for me
I feel bad sellin' crack to my community
That's why I'm always giving back to the community
I get money round the clock, money keep clockin'
I pop percs, sip lean til' my teeth rotten
My life's like a motion picture, bitch keep watchin'
I never ran out of money, so I keep shoppin'
Keep plottin; Eddy, I got the Semi
Good times, burn with the iron like Penny
Nigga, everything Fendi, even my sheets
I threw some paper in Atlanta, and got back in a week
Then took a trip to Bel-Air, rest in peace Uncle Phil
My block poppin' with gold tops like Dru Hill; Sisqo
Cookies like Nabisco, let it turn to olive oil
Came back Crisco!