July Quin, Derek Aurelius - 617 Lyrics

Heard you tryin' to hit me on my line
But it's a dub for that
We cannot connect we can't get wired
It's a dub for that
If you hit my telly hit my phone
Just know
You gon' hear this message at the
(The number you have reached)
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)
Bitch there ain't no part of me that feels like you should pardon me
I'm on a different wave this shit sound like I just caught a key, audibly
I got a mouth full of cocaína
Every verse that I spit is Ether on that Nasir Jones shit
I'm on my mosaic ain't gotta okay it
Cause the flow flavor ask my old bae
And this IPA is full of deuce goose, that's two geese
So I'm Bruce Lee, I gotta stunt the rap
You got a problem, scrap
Leave no doubt or a holla back
On that Gwen Stefani tip it's obvious this here produced to nod ya head
So we live in the field better chill like red light
What it feel like, feel like?
A mill might role out the fame yeah
A pill might dull out my pain yeah but shit
I got the Doo-wop to chew out the new optic fresh out the shoe box
I drew out the strings
And plus the nuance is Wu, Pac and new Punk I'm part the queue up
And you not the wave
So ludicrous, true that
Better move bitch, get out the way
Things get easy with the ooh-oo child
Southside Bronx where the brutes are
Way Uptown where my roots are
Boy I'm in the house like a rooftop
You better cool your jets or the Medusa next
That mean I'm Stone Cold when I'm at your neck
That mean my whole mode is an adjective
That mean I'm so Burr when I'm back to back
You want the smoke?
We could get back to blacks
Need a kitty sweet that speak Mandarin
I was twenty deep and tryin' manifest
I used to wanna be Diddy with the platinum jacket
Now I'm Quin Quin
Cooking in the kitchen with my wrist bent
These for the years that I struggled hard
They said life's a bitch
Well suck this dick
That ain't a misprint nah
I came to face the dawn
I wonder what my hearts in for
And oh yeah the telly on toast
Burner, burner
I ain't taking no calls
What's the purpose?
Swerve em
Don't hit my text till you cut the check
You could save yo feeling 'less you pay the rent
Heard you tryin' to hit me on my line
But it's a dub for that
We cannot connect we can't get wired
It's a dub for that
If you hit my telly hit my phone
Just know
You gon' hear this message at the
(I'm sorry)
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)
I’m Quincy Jones meets Charlamagne
A little bit of Pac and Marvin Gaye
Saul Williams on Chardonnay
Carvens Lissaint, Aja Monet
Hotline Bling one call away
No cheese for you jack this ain’t Monterey
Shorty wanna dance like Salome
Cause we bound to spend a billie on this holiday
Ain’t nobody gonna rain on our parade
Though I’m tryna get your panties to condensate
I mean I guess what I’m really just tryin' say
Is that ass would look good in some lingerie
Four cups into that Cabernet
The word fuck is a verb we can conjugate
I got a hot bread stick for your Marmalade
Call me daddy long dick that’s (Sabugay!)
Ma chérie morir soñando
Quiero ver yo te extraño
Mami are we on or not tho?
You my Oshun I’m your Shango
Spend the weekend at my condo
Relax your neck hit that high note
How many times can I make you moan?
Well that’s the code to unlock your iPhone
I know that’s over the head like ponchos
Straight to Dykman from El Campo
She like (She like)
Like four twenty in Chicago, side note
You ever had forbidden sex?
Right in the coup where the pigeons nest?
Let me lick your breasts
Cause I guarantee If you cheat with me
You’ll forgive your ex
I’m Quincy Jones meets Charlamagne
A little bit of Pac and Marvin Gaye
Saul Williams on Chardonnay
Carvens Lissaint, Aja Monet
What the fuck you thought?
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)

Heard you tryin' to hit me on my line
But it's a dub for that
We cannot connect we can't get wired
It's a dub for that
If you hit my telly hit my phone
Just know
You gon' hear this message at the
(The number you have reached)
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)
Bitch there ain't no part of me that feels like you should pardon me
I'm on a different wave this shit sound like I just caught a key, audibly
I got a mouth full of cocaína
Every verse that I spit is Ether on that Nasir Jones shit
I'm on my mosaic ain't gotta okay it
Cause the flow flavor ask my old bae
And this IPA is full of deuce goose, that's two geese
So I'm Bruce Lee, I gotta stunt the rap
You got a problem, scrap
Leave no doubt or a holla back
On that Gwen Stefani tip it's obvious this here produced to nod ya head
So we live in the field better chill like red light
What it feel like, feel like?
A mill might role out the fame yeah
A pill might dull out my pain yeah but shit
I got the Doo-wop to chew out the new optic fresh out the shoe box
I drew out the strings
And plus the nuance is Wu, Pac and new Punk I'm part the queue up
And you not the wave
So ludicrous, true that
Better move bitch, get out the way
Things get easy with the ooh-oo child
Southside Bronx where the brutes are
Way Uptown where my roots are
Boy I'm in the house like a rooftop
You better cool your jets or the Medusa next
That mean I'm Stone Cold when I'm at your neck
That mean my whole mode is an adjective
That mean I'm so Burr when I'm back to back
You want the smoke?
We could get back to blacks
Need a kitty sweet that speak Mandarin
I was twenty deep and tryin' manifest
I used to wanna be Diddy with the platinum jacket
Now I'm Quin Quin
Cooking in the kitchen with my wrist bent
These for the years that I struggled hard
They said life's a bitch
Well suck this dick
That ain't a misprint nah
I came to face the dawn
I wonder what my hearts in for
And oh yeah the telly on toast
Burner, burner
I ain't taking no calls
What's the purpose?
Swerve em
Don't hit my text till you cut the check
You could save yo feeling 'less you pay the rent
Heard you tryin' to hit me on my line
But it's a dub for that
We cannot connect we can't get wired
It's a dub for that
If you hit my telly hit my phone
Just know
You gon' hear this message at the
(I'm sorry)
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)
I’m Quincy Jones meets Charlamagne
A little bit of Pac and Marvin Gaye
Saul Williams on Chardonnay
Carvens Lissaint, Aja Monet
Hotline Bling one call away
No cheese for you jack this ain’t Monterey
Shorty wanna dance like Salome
Cause we bound to spend a billie on this holiday
Ain’t nobody gonna rain on our parade
Though I’m tryna get your panties to condensate
I mean I guess what I’m really just tryin' say
Is that ass would look good in some lingerie
Four cups into that Cabernet
The word fuck is a verb we can conjugate
I got a hot bread stick for your Marmalade
Call me daddy long dick that’s (Sabugay!)
Ma chérie morir soñando
Quiero ver yo te extraño
Mami are we on or not tho?
You my Oshun I’m your Shango
Spend the weekend at my condo
Relax your neck hit that high note
How many times can I make you moan?
Well that’s the code to unlock your iPhone
I know that’s over the head like ponchos
Straight to Dykman from El Campo
She like (She like)
Like four twenty in Chicago, side note
You ever had forbidden sex?
Right in the coup where the pigeons nest?
Let me lick your breasts
Cause I guarantee If you cheat with me
You’ll forgive your ex
I’m Quincy Jones meets Charlamagne
A little bit of Pac and Marvin Gaye
Saul Williams on Chardonnay
Carvens Lissaint, Aja Monet
What the fuck you thought?
Me I'm not impressed, I'm not impressed
Nah, nigga, what?
Less you banking all up off your stress
Don't press me on my (Six One Seven)
Nah, nah don't press my (Six One Seven)