"Chill Guy Freestyle" lyrics

(Oh baby boy, wildin' with this one)

Double stack on pills high, man, I ain't no chill guy
Bro they always keep a strap on, he ain't no real guy
[?], you don't know it feel like
She got real, I got so high, I want it real life

[?], got my jaw clenched
Heart racing, I don't know how long 'till they call me
All I know when I die, my brothers gon' be all with me
Say they smoking Taiga, we done made sure that they all with me

Yeah, huh-uh-uh-uh-uh
I hope cuz straight in heaven, too many ops in this bitch
Lil Roy got put up in a spliff, they giving police tips
Motherfuckers lurking, I ain't hit that block in an OD trip
High as hell, fresh off a hit, I'm tryna stay lowkey with it
I'm in Fort Worth, 'tryna catch a snitch, I'm playing quidditch
These rappers think they fucking with me, tell 'em buddy quit it
Finna fuck up a whole hundred when bro get acquitted

How you put 'em on, they ain't even fucking with you?
Huh-uh-uh
How you put 'em on, they ain't even fucking with you?
Huh-uh-uh, yeah, huh, huh

Spin it back to back, the way we drill make 'em do jumping jacks
I went Jack and Jill down on this hill and I ain't coming back
50 shot hit the crib, I bust, I send a hundred back
Up now and I'ma stay up, I don't need no hundred pack

Freestyle some more, I might just get another plat
Drac' came with the water, chop a chopper like a lumberjack
Got a chance to bring the team up and he done fumbled that
Every time I get that sack, you know I'm finna run it back

I'm the QB, bro the running back
Went from QPs to a hundred bricks
Tryna stand his ground, he got put under that
Huh-uh
Came a long way, I still ain't fucking finished
They still ain't fucking with me, I still ain't fucking with you

How you put 'em on, they ain't fucking with you?
Haha, haha, yeah (what the fuck?)
Yeah, how you put 'em on, they still ain't fucking with you?