Trophies (Freestyle)

[Verse 1: Quily]
You be chasing rappers for a feature, that's some hoe shit
You remind me of my fuckin' tweaker, that's some joe shit
Quilly ballin, just sit in the bleachers
1350 for my sneakers, these ain't jordans neither
I buy Jordans for my son, he fresh as Justin Bieber
You niggas' 30 plus and still sneaker heads
87 uncle trappin til' his beeper dead
In the kitchen, me and Papi eatin' pita bread
Free my nigga Filthy Rich, hope I don't see the feds
So called trappers turned to rappers cuz their phone slow
I'm a rapper who just trap and get his own dough
Tryna steal my adlibs, get your own flow
Own flow, I do this rap shit in my PJ's
Woke up in my flip flops and hit the E way
Money callin', something foreign on my 3 way
Strictly skills, when I'm spittin, that's the DJ
I'm from Uptown and I still be with my old team
Counting brand new hundreds, spending old beans
Hottest in the city nigga, that's my old dreams
I'm bout to start sky diving, do some bold things
Rocking Kenneth Cole things
Flow hot from a cold block
Now I'm walking in Giuseppe and their low top
Playing XBOX one in the coke spot
I done turned Haines Street into O Block
Hoes wearing butters, niggas' wearing UGGS now
Niggas' is the new bitches, bitches thugs now
Everybody that was sober, they're on drugs now
Let them tell it, every trapper got a plug now
And a brick, all the dirty niggas' wavy now, I started it
Bitches wanna have my baby now, ain't that a bitch
Where was you when I was in the gym?
Tryna get a birdie, couldn't get above the rim
Fuck Mike
All these youngins wanna be like me
Alexander McQueen, scars on my new tee
Balmain jeans and they cost a G
If you believe your baby father, you're a fuckin flea
Crab Cakes at Buddakan, do it for the thrills
She gon' bust that pussy open, do it for some pills
For some pills, DAMN!