Chill Will - Drugs Only lyrics

[Hook: Chill Will] n***a better not run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Or he gonna be a dead homie Dead homie, dead homie Dead homie, dead homie Dead homie, dead homie This spot is for d** only [Verse 1: Quavo] Pulling up in a big wheelie Cooking dope, just me and Chilly Stuffing the bricks in the Bentley I wrap it and send it to Philly This a drug only area you trippin' Phew, the pack gone missing missing Gggraow, gggraow, the bullet gon' hit him Young n***a young n***a we realer I hang we with gorillas My n***as dope dealers You short with the guala? Call Skippa the Flippa [Verse 2: Takeoff] The c**a that cola, I'm smoking a blunt Like that purple come from Minnesota The plug hit my Motorola He talking bout shipping it over Can't fold you gotta roll over That's what them OG D told me Me and Chill Will, popping the seal Diamonds on chill, Forgi my wheel Flipping the brick trying to get me a M Trap spot, no Jay Z, J got that hard knock Cameras on my [?] block [Hook] This spot is for d** only Drugs only, d** only Drugs only, d** only Drugs only, d** only Got a whole lot of money on me Money on me, money on me Money on me, money on me Money on me, money on me n***a better not run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Run up on me, run up on me Or he gonna be a dead homie Dead homie, dead homie Dead homie, dead homie Dead homie, dead homie This spot is for d** only [Verse 3: Chill Will] I tell you right now I don't really play bout that You done went and made me mad I tell you right now A n***a can't tell me nothing You ain't never sold me nothing Count the money I'm sweatin' (Woo!) 10 squares I'm blessed Your girl on my dick cause there's ice around my neck This song is for thugs only, this house is for d** only This kitchen, no refrigerator Just a stove in it with a pot on it All this big money on me, now I gotta keep a gun on me n***as trying to run a trick play then they gonna have to bury homie Short barrel, Gary Coleman, 81 bullets, Terrell Owens I'm VIP, members only Pulling these hoes like [?] 911, operator New Jaguar, space invader Let a n***a run, gonna get done up, trying to f** up my come up [Hook] [Verse 4: Yung Fresh] This spot is for d** only, this spot is for plugs only 357 [?] slug on me, VVS shining like bulbs on me Hit your a** in your mug homie f** around you have a dead homie Chill Will and street money Running through a hundred on an easy Sunday You pour [?] not Giovanni Serve it in real gla**, this b**h bunkin' Got real juugs coming from the contra n***a how you want it, hard or soft Re-up and flip it 'fo I take a loss Super clear clarity, hear it in his cloths Got cameras everyone in this spot Got gambino dope in this pot Flatscreens everywhere on the wall Got choppers on the floor, f** the law All I got is my word and my balls Super-charged motor with the [?] This spot is for d** only This spot for making drug money This spot this b**h bunkin' Thank the lord for rubber bands, keep 'em coming [Hook]