Baby – Quality Control lyrics

Lyrics Baby – Quality Control

Baby lyrics
Yeah rest in peace to Bankroll‚ show ’em how to do it
Baby goin’ crazy‚ he been gettin’ straight to it
I done caught so many flights I end up fuckin’ all the stewardesses
Catch me in Atlanta‚ no security with my jewelry
Found all them rings my baby mama talkin’ suin’ me
‘Nother b***h tellin’ lies on the p***y like she screwin’ me
Catch him down bad that’s his a*s‚ n***a you or me
SI diamonds on the chain he ain’t foolin’ me
We was skippin’ school on the train‚ duckin’ truancy
My main partner turned into a rat he talkin’ ’bout Rod and me
I pray the judge give that boy a bond so I can pop him
We was in the hood sellin’ bags shroom trap exotic
Fucked around and tried to go and lease a helicopter
Baby really a problem somebody gotta stop him
And the haters watchin’ too hard I think they got binoculars
Every n***a with me on go it ain’t no stoppin’ us
Niggas actin’ like they got the bag I’m tryna stop it up
Do this for the bros down the road gotta lock it up
All you gotta do is say it’s smoke then we’re poppin’ up
Baby got the streets on hold he ain’t drop yet
I’ve been goin’ hard it’s gon’ be hard for you to top that
I make it look easy but this s**t really a process
I’m really a millionaire still in the projects

Baby puttin’ on for the city
Baby he the realest Baby prolly got a couple million
Baby hang with four or five killers
Baby got children Baby prolly still drug dealin
Baby ain’t a trapper he a rapper
Baby makin’ classics Baby in the hood gettin’ active
Baby keep it real with his people
Baby like a preacher Baby prolly still sell reefer

Huh? Baby prolly still got them ‘bows
I tell my b***h I’m faithful but I still got the h**s
Baby gettin’ jiggy on stage with the Glizzy
Baby CEO he shake the game like he Diddy
You would think it’s Mardi Gras I got these bitches showin’ titties
And I ain’t throwin’ beads I pull them bitches’ weaves
I’m stallin’ bitches out if I’m a dog then she a flea
And when I f**k her doggystyle the only time I’m on my knee
I barely wanna hit her got her beggin’ “Baby please”
I tell a b***h to shut up you ’bout to f**k my nut up
The label’s CEO keep beggin’ me to keep the gun up
They know you play with Baby Baby beat him cut up
Private plane Wi-Fi on the FaceTime with Johnny
I told him ice my wrist up I like to hold my fist up
How that boy DaBaby in the air not gettin’ his d**k sucked?
Why he keep the fire and throw them fours in every picture?
‘Cause n***a…

Baby puttin’ on for the city
Baby he the realest Baby prolly got a couple million
Baby hang with four or five killers
Baby got children Baby prolly still drug dealin
Baby ain’t a trapper he a rapper
Baby makin’ classics Baby in the hood gettin’ active
Baby keep it real with his people
Baby like a preacher Baby prolly still sell reeferrr

Demons and angels lyrics