Rule the World - Quilly

If I ruled the world, I’d lower the coke prices

Raise the welfare, and lower the perc prices

You can pay for a feature even though the flow priceless

Whole team Muslim, we at war like ISIS

300 Deep, I’m the leader, Leonidas

I talk heavy, my mouth dirty, gingivitis

A party for the real niggas, ya’ll not invited

He gettin money but he a rat, ya’ll bitches like it

One nigga break ya’ll heart, ya’ll bitches diking

Powder from columbia, the sour came from Dyckman!

I gave them the plain Jane Rollie, No Icing

Do the right thing with the Red bottoms and spiked it

Helly Hansen on like i’m bout to go hiking

So wavy, Laila Ali, your hoe fight it

Thinking should she fuck me or you, indecisive

Thriller when I get on the mic but I ain’t light-skin

Moonwalk all on the track cuz I’m the nicest

Streets cold, Minnesota Viking, it’s biting!

Internet Gangsta, you gon' kill me with typing

Iron on me, I ain’t fightin', I ain’t Tyson

Quilly, Q-Pac, don’t forget to put the hyphen

All eyes on me, I must be exciting!

Coke in the pyrex pot, drop the ice in

Break the whole pattie pie down, get to slicing

With my NEW-NEW bitch skating in the rover

I’m hot now, I give them bitches the cold shoulder

Never let a side bitch break your house hold up

If she cross that line, then it’s over

Dump my shot, then I’m chasin' it with Folgers

Still high from last week, I’m never sober

Drop a whole dot in the pot, then bag boulders

I fucked your girl and her friends, and you told her

I’m gettin' more money than you and you older

You call that nigga your old head, that nigga owe us

Real ain’t what about you say, it’s what you show us

Every Friday, I touch hills and shoulders

Bullets shampoo, they hittin heads and shoulders

Shoot your lights out like Kobe, niggas' cobras

Paperwork clean, you can check my whole folder

I don’t even club unless they put me on the poster

55 bottles, why the fuck I need a coaster?

I don’t even drink, I’m just standing on the sofa

I don’t make it rain, every dollar go to Sosa

8th of Hi-Tech, fuck around and need a chauffeur

Your man, he the shooter, your just hold the gun (Holster)

Bitch nigga wouldn’t pop bread out the toaster

Fuck in the car if she a hoe like I’m suppose to

Led her ride me, great adventures, roller coasters

We can be friends after that, nothing closer

29, give them calm linens with the loafers

You do it for the radio, I do it for the culture

Killing these rappers, eat their corpse like vultures

I’m a king, I’ma hit your Queen, I’ma poke her

On the strength, you ain’t play your cards right, joker

You hang with a Rat, I rather chill with my smokers

Drop it to the oils like Cappuccino;

Mocha

I got a bomb on me right now, I’m a soldier

Frank Lucas work, I ain’t tell but I told you!

Dope with the Pepsi stamp, minus the soda

Juice in my sprite, pot full of Coca-Cola

Get my scripts from Dr. Pepper, I’ma flex her

Hundred dollar Fanta, 4 O’s, nothing lesser

Pulled up in an Audi, pulled off in a Tesla

Dope Fiends leave the Trap house on a stretcher

I lost a calm 8 but I’m still 7 up, I really leveled up

Ya’ll done woke the devil up

So, I’ma give them hell, fuck it, I’ma break the scale

Put a quarter in the water, it bubble like Ginger-Ale!

My phone pop, I don’t play the block

I’m at the sugar house bussin' traps while I play the slots

Pass the rock off to my youngin', I can’t coach it

The type of grams I put together, I can’t post it

I got a fat bitch, I don’t fuck, I just milk her

I keep it a bean, I ain’t never had a filter!

I turned a bum bitch to a bad bitch, built her

She went left, I took her right back, killed her

The grind like a goldmine, lucky charms in it

Over the pot, Vince Carter, put my arm in it

Trap do the pussy so I’m going hard in it

White came back tan, I Chico DeBarge whipped it!