Ok Cool

(album: QUINCHO - 2020)

Run that back, Khi
Hold on, it's October 10th, my niggas get out the bar, nigga
Ain't no more free dub, ain't no more free lil' head, nigga
Ayy, ayy, gang, ayy, ayy, baow, baow, baow, baow
Hold on, gang, ayy, gang, hold on, ayy

Hold on, hold on, hold on
Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang
He flexing too hard, we gon' flip him
Keep throwing C's and thinking he cripping
Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple
Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple
Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em
They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em

Slide the door back on that minivan
Push a button and we spin like a ceiling fan
You ain't tryna get active, quit bitching in
Michael Jackson this ratchet, this Semi dance
We hit this strap with a tool or piece
Like, "Fah, fah, fah, fah," this gang shit
I bring the backend like I'm Saint Nick
We gon' get on his ass, make him change cliques
He don't think with his head, get his brain split
On the road, no caboose on some train shit
Lotta ice on my wrist like I sprained it
Treat the beef like a car, we just crank shit
I like Internet beefing and lame shit
That's the quickest way we do the foolery
She gon' fuck 'cause I'm fly with my jewelry
Beat his ass, now them hoes talking suing me

Hold on, hold on, hold on, gang
Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang
He flexing too hard, we gon' flip him
Keep throwing C's and thinking he cripping
Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple
Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple
Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em
They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em

Hold on, baow, baow, okay, cool
He want some smoke, jump in his pool, I bet he won't float
She giving noggin, she finna choke
Diamonds, they water, they came with some salt
Geek in my city, get pulled like a rope
Play with the gang, you gon' get what you want
She popped the Perc' and the dick on the floor
I hit the road with them steppers with me
With a whole lot of hoes and Berettas with me
Got a Glock .45, the big fellow with me
On these heels like I got Cinderella with me
We done went to his show, it was hella empty
They don't play 'cause they know we get hella busy
If you shoot, I'm hit, boy, you better hear me
I got aim, I won't miss with this yellow Glizzy

Hold on, hold on, hold on, gang
Okay, cool, we finna get him, gang
He flexing too hard, we gon' flip him
Keep throwing C's and thinking he cripping
Pull out the Glock with it down like a nipple
Try to come 'round, then get shot, it's that simple
Whole lotta facts in my songs when you hear 'em
They don't want no smoke, they just want me to fear 'em

Okay, cool, we finna get him
Uh, play 'round with us and we zip him
Uh, they know I'm official
Uh, aim at the slime on the pimple
Uh, she give me face, dimple
Uh, hop out the sauna like I'm Emma
Play with the gang and get popped like a pimple, hold up, gang