4 DA THUGS

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Soliddoc & TraeThaKilla

2:27

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Run in to the bank
Tell em' put it my bag
Flash em' with that new ahh thang
I might let em' hear a bang
And my bullet like a fang
Watch out bitch I got a K
If I spray it ain't okay
This new shit might wake Coltrane
Please don't make me spill his brain
Dropping bodies off a train
Man I hear a lotta bangs
And I got even more rangs
Bitch I'm like 07 Wayne
Kill a citizen no kane
Mothafuck a job all I'm doing is I rob hoe
When I'm off the block hoe
Watch ya fuckin back bro
I attack like I'm KRS
Put you down to rest
Yous a pest
Bet you still depressed
Pressed and you confessed
Now I'm running off to west
If you hear that brrra brrra brrra
It's that mothafucking killa trae
Disappear without no trace
Cops can't find me f*ck a chase
Hide my face I do the race I win the case
Bloody jumpsuit Like I'm mase
Clip on my waist
Stuck in my ways
One of theses days
Hide at my place
Keep up the pace
Tie your shoe lace
Lock up the safe
This ain't no baseball but he run to the base
Body in the freezer now it's a cold case
If they catch me I'm a rapp-ah
Shot him in the back-ah
I'm everything you lack-ah
16 bars no ah hah
Get up off my dick-ah
Boutta hit a lick-ah
Riding with the stick-ah
Writing with the bic-ah
Killer no filler i bring mystical styles
Every MC I body on tracks
Stacking their bodies stuffed into the piles
Call it crack muzik cause the bass gon crack your floor tiles
I hate all of these music industry lies
My face plastered on to New York Times
Why the f*ck my momma cries
I ain't kill nobody I'm just doing fine
If you Cross the line f*ck around and find out bitch
I might hit the afterlife and say what's up to Makaveli
Getting too hot I don't mean no Nelly
This that shit that ain't on Telly
Hit my Mothafuckin celly
Now I'm headed to the deli
Skipping over blood like ballet
I'm more flyer than the prince of belaire
Playlist motherfuckers act like they making your whole career
Guess what
I don't fear
Carlos he a bitch make him disappear
If he reappear hope he got no eyes
And no tongue so he can't spread lies
Way too extreme I don't give a f*ck
Went off the grid time to hop on the charts
Rid of the opps I swear they was cops
Say they want smoke I give em' lung cancer
One Beat and a gun turned him to a dancer
My crib so haunted like the Lancasters
Your ego hurting you need a plaster
Go on my own I don't need a master
Preach all this gospel like I'm a youth pastor
Turning point for me I'm Julius randle
Bullet flew by it blew off the candle
My gun is a dog and I am the Handler
Click click click no Adam Sandler

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