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letra de quarter stackin - kash iso, ysr gramz, iz bo, atm dolo & yrg zeke

[intro]
free trel, n-gga
yop

[verse 1]
i’m tryna spin, spin, spin, they got a lot to say
what happened to that n-gga that’s on that block? his ass got hit with k
my biggest opp stuffed in this ‘wood, this sh-t a lot to face
i’m screamin’, “free my brother out that county”, pray he beat that case
n-ggas tattle-tellin’ on they mans, these n-ggas rat for pape’
hit a n-gga with the barrel of the glock and make him lose his face
if the boys get behind me in the striker, let’s take ’em on a chase
i got three opps rolled in this ‘wood, this sh-t a triple face

[verse 2: kash iso]
nine times out of ten, you call my phone, i’m out herе catchin’ plays
banana clip curled on the k, this b-tch’ll peel his face
i’ll lay a n-gga on his back pockеts ‘fore he get to grab his waist
tell a b-tch to pull her pants up, i’m tryna grab her face
i keep some fire girl up but still can get you [?]
a n-gga slide on me, could never turn my face, some sh-t you can’t ignore
he got shot on lead, won’t see his full potential like he brandon roy
if you really hop up on that with these n-ggas, they gon’ call the boys

[verse 3: iz bo]
small circle, bullets in a deuce deuce look like chips ahoy
this n-gga on the phone askin’ who i shoot, i’m banged, i’m gettin’ noid
here’s twenty-one but go put thirty-two up out in livernois
there’s h-lla bodies in that water, we the down by the river [?]
okay, you loose, but you ain’t really loose loose, i’m finna give her more
i shot her ass a cup of drank like have you ever took a sip before?
you talkin’ brazy, have you ever been punched in your lip before?
i’m tryna be so rich that i pay a n-gga just to get the door
[verse 4: ysr gramz]
i’d never be a ho, that sh-t in your pores
drop thirty shots on the opps, n-gga, check the score
bro got a tec but he ain’t never been a ref before
n-ggas lyin’ if they tell you they ain’t never been helped before
he ain’t no shooter, all his bullets do is scr-pe the floor
slam a rapper on his neck, i’m tryna break the floor
this lil’ money that i got ain’t sh-t, i’m tryna make some more
all that hatin’ you be doin’ ain’t working, you gotta hate some more

[verse 5]
in the field catchin’ every play, b-tch, i be quarterbackin’
make sure you stack that money, i don’t care if you quarter stackin’
close that door when you walk in, right now, i’m mortal packin’
you shot that gun with your eyes closed, might as well hold it backwards
sells callin’ through the night, my b-tch think i’m creepin’
don’t try to cut my drank ’cause i’ma open up the lid peekin’
with my brother right or wrong, ain’t no in-betweenin’
on [?], ’cause when it ain’t no percs i be fiendin’

- kash iso ysr gramz iz bo atm dolo yrg zeke

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