Lyrics:
it's just Bill Miller dude It's Bill Millers Bar-B-Q though Bill, Bill Miller Bar-B-Q Bill Mill-ERS Bar-B-Q Well I mean somebody after listening to this
off I'm on the side fondlin' this Marcy Black car be gone, Q.B. bitches ready to brawl Charli Baltimore payin' dues, got it 'em balled At the bar
and the H.A.V.O.C. from the Q.B.C Putting cowards where they're supposed to be If I don't know your face then don't come close to me I got too much beef for that Drama
of models and ho's Rappin', all ya'll some rag old bunnies Ready to jump off I'm on the side fondlin' this Marcy Black car be gone, Q.B. bitches ready
in a black Suburb' Let me move first so I can park my truck on the curb You move slow get bashed in from Q.B. to Aspen I'm short for a reason You
'cause this is my football field Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel But the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback Every word is like
the initials? Q-B Jamrock the lyrical officials Send out the order, laws, and the rituals Burn candles, say prayers, paint murals It is truth we big news we
(Firm Biz) (Total Package) Niggas know that the game don't stop From the coke game to the dope game, fuck a no-name (B.K., Q.B., uh) That the game
the initials? Q-B Jamrock the lyrical officials Send out the order, laws, and the rituals Burn candles, say prayers, paint murals It is truth we big news we
why'all feel the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field Throwin' pa**es from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel But the Q.B. don't stand for no
with that? Skillz and Esco', it's on When you speak in my direction, watch your tone From Q-B to V-A, can't count the blocks we own It's locked
Q! [All] It sucks to be you! [Kate] You win! [All] It sucks to be you! [Brian] I feel better now! [Gary Coleman] Try having people stopping you
feeling good I put balls on my truck they be hanging good Everything be good Baby Q B B good My sons playing with Lincoln logs My son is playing with
Q he be making them moves If I didn't make a move would they hold me told This ain't rapping I'm speaking my truth Make a play and new faces they
On my thousand dollar mattress It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me Y'all need to give it up we
On my thousand dollar mattress It's the world that I live in, Q.B. made me A moms that loved me and a pops that raised me Y'all need to give it up we
Fucking with the mobbsters out in Q.B Nigga you get hung for that shit that your mouth speak Bitch ass nigga Just pray for me (when I'm out in
name Dipped out crazy, Timbs chicken and gravy Q.B., Dupri baby When it comes to the clubs packed, Cristal flowin' (I've got to have it) When it
football field Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads apparel But the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback Every word is like a sawed-off blast, 'cause
gets old It sucks to be you on Avenue Q (Sucks to be me) On Avenue Q (Sucks to be you) On Avenue Q (Sucks to be us) But not when we're together
in a black Suburb' Let me move first so I can park my truck on the curb You move slow get bashed in from Q.B. to Aspen I'm short for a reason You
Police come you know the game Don't say my name Dipped out crazy, Timbs chicken and gravy Q.B., Dupri baby [Chorus: JD (Monica)] When it comes
spliff, fans wit five in the range And it's, nuthin for me, and shit on your three I'm from Iraq, twenty minutes from Q.B. I aim you, so you should just
got Joe and then - it's whoa-whoa-whoa [Fat Joe] Yeah, uhh, yo, uhh I gotta be "The Flyest" like my homie from Q-be Niggaz know the Don be
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