Lyrics Quadeca – Clouted Up
Text:
(Yung dripp)
Bitch, I’m clouted up, bitch, I’m clouted up, ay
I get my numbers up, gotta add ’em up, ay
Until I get it I ain’t never packin up, yeah
Okay so all my clothes is Japanese
I wear it casually
And I’m a killer on the mic
Might cause a couple casualties
And all I’m needin’ is a beat to make your fuckin’ salary
Man I said fuck the peanut gallery
I got a fuckin’ allergy
Trappin down my PayPal make it friends and family
Now I’m so hot I need some oven mitts
Ain’t safe to handle me
Now I made my checks from Spotify
They pay me handsomely
I got the mic up to my brain to help maintain my sanity
Okay so everybody ’round me they been wasting my time, ay
Pull up to the Functions and see they face when I rhyme, ay
Everyone’s a critic on my case all the time
Do it by myself
I don’t need a way to get signed
Bitch, I’m clouted up, yeah, I’m clouted up, ay
I get my numbers up, gotta add ’em up, ay
Until I get it I ain’t never packin’ up, no
And they all comin’ for my blood like Dracula, ay
Okay I’m backin’ this, not maskin’ shit
Now everybody wanna go packin’ shit
I don’t give a fuck you don’t absent it
Wait a minute, shit I’m too passionate
Imma
?, put a cap in it
Remember when they used to all laugh at this
And then they hit me up like what the fuck’s happenin?
Ay, I had to sacrifice a lotta sleep
Because a lotta people wanna laugh at me
Ay, standin in the way of who I wanna be
Now random strangers recognize me when I cross the street
Ay, I’m clouted up yeah
I get my numbers up, gotta add em’ up, ay
Until I get it I ain’t never packin up, nah
And they all comin’ for my blood like Dracula, ay, ay
Ay, had a cup of ford just to focus, ay
You know I was poor when I wrote this ay
I got too torn I was hopeless
Now it’s all black foreigns like the potus
Ay, I’m clouted up yeah
I get my numbers up, gotta add em’ up, yeah, ay
Ay, I’m clouted up yeah, get my numbers up, gotta add em’ up
Yeah, ay