Started Something (Freestyle) lyrics

[Verse 1: Quilly]
Let's ball!
Hypothetically speaking, practice what I'm preaching
All my b*tches foreign and my son's half rican
The wave'll turn a good girl bad, start tweakin'
f*ck me right now, I'm only here for the weekend
Pockets full of nothing but green cuz I'm a vegan
n*ggas' 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 n*gga that's clamin' he not eatin'
Do me one favor my n*gga, stop breathin'
I give a b*tch di*k and hope, stop reachin'
Ballin' so hard, you hear the screech from my sneakers
When it get cold, book flights, change seasons
Wonder why n*ggas' 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 n*ggas', my heart broke, I'm still grieving
I don't owe a n*gga 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
b*tches like "Quilly hot but he too c*cky"
I hit you with the 08' or the new Shotty
My lil' cousin 22, caught two bodies
I'm f*ckin b*tches, 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, f*ckin' 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, b*tch 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
n*gga, 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!