Lyrics:
wouldn't even know it exists
I'm a jersey boy like young Frankie Valli, my boys ain't four seasons cus they never switch
I ain't on BBC, I ain't no DJ, but
It's the dank season for nineteen ninety four
Seff the Gaffla and Rappin' 4, yo
Everybody's smokin' chronic fuck the reason
It must be pleasin' man
Outside of Bay Village Pizza, head to toe in Dior
I'm always thinking bout' the Four Seasons like I'm Frankie Valli
If you take NJ and flip it the other way
Seasons Chaaaaaaange
Don't Sweat
Tek Tek Tek Technique
Spring up into action since the grass is always greener
Like a Frankie Valli faction, Four
the sport
Coats of the season
And surrounded by his whole Odd Future crew
The ascendant singer opens up to
Amy Wallace about his crazy
Year including the bomb
we got your attention by now, right?
(Holiday Season)
Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday (Holiday Season, nigga)
Mister Entertainment
Shouts out Trapaholics
we got your attention by now, right?
(Holiday Season)
Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday (Holiday Season, nigga)
Mister Entertainment
Shouts out Trapaholics
a flu season
I ain't hit streaming services in two seasons; can't let niggas get nothing too recent
Nigga wanted beef so I two-pieced 'em
Bitch I'm
Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty Dollas
Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left
Welcome to the four seasons
I ain't had a reason to do it like this
Damn I'm grateful that I'm breathing
Other people have been killed by the real
right
I need you baby
To warm the lonely nights, lonely nights
Baby
Trust in me when I say
I've been living at the four seasons
For four seasons, Frankie
I execute this rebuke, good master
He said, these cometh not out, but by prayer and fasting
Like, one, two, three, four, five, knock a demon down
Zidane Zinedine
And if her man act foul we're shooting penalties
I'm Jason Voorhees at an orgy
I'm Frankie Valli and the four seasons, please
Blonde bitch
to be dry
'cause after the stronger man supply
But in the drought season it`s too hard to get by
Niggaz be runnin` off with D gafflin muthafuckas,
4 seasons
Written by Christopher Prandy
Artist Name: HelloChristopher
Had a conversation with my soul, i'm a king and i deserve more
Marble
Yeah, ay
What's up?
It's, Hannibal Buress
And it's a, another Christmas album from Chance the Rapper and Jeremih
I guess these motherfuckers
me to hit the floor
One ounce, two ounce, three ounce, four
How much of this shit did a nigga really smoke
Y'all don't see me in the mix cause I'm
the kicks from the horsies
Bitch, I'm hot all four seasons (four seasons)
Hand wash my drawers and hang 'em from the clothing line (please)
Album's
in the kick
Four, five in the back
We just hit a walk through what you gon do
Nigga just hit his three strikes but he ain't counted out
Heard he just
at
But fuck it, bust it, we'll discuss it
On a later date when you see me wit Frankie in the Cutlass
(Chorus)-(Busta Rhymes)
Sorry homeboy but
no drive-by's
We walked over
COB bandana tied to the end of the AR
Iller than they are, rhymes so sick
Give 'em the day off
This is the chaos, Nicolas
a reflection of your heart. That words alone could never capture. When I write a Christmas song, it is almost always born from a moment in my life, inspired by
on the floor, hit the door
I got that good shit for the
Low I let them know
So line them up, line them up
We 'bout to blow
Tis the season to be balling for no
We was having fun this evening
Whipping grain, top me up at 4 seasons
Switching lanes by my side girl i need it
Go against gang hell nah that's
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