Lyrics:
Some how im getting fame
That's right ironic is the name
I Feel like I been chasing my own music since three
I done stood through all the four seasons
You ask what hides in my DNA
i say there is ego, ego's, world wars, money and love in the trunk.
you say there are islands in your DNA
Islands as big
by like four
My bro got a stick and you know he gon' blow
Talking to much shit might kick down your door
Feel like lil' Sammy I'm ready to glo
Cant go
trust
When you not in the room, what is it they discuss?
Pour a 4 inside my Crush
Let this OG fill your lungs
Coughing Cookies up
Let this OG fill your
Intro:
Heavenly Father
I come to you
In Thanksgiving and praise, ooh Jah
Forgive Dem Jah
4 they know not what they've done
Hook:
A bay
a big gangsta, I turn her out with that foreign love
Cocaina slanga, a hunnid of 'em, just sold it all
Surrounded by the angels, diamonds on when I'm
bitch
She got the fattest ass they got the hottest look
Leaving wit eight bitches I need some octopus
See how wale go j four cs
My lake shore
Niggas don't holler 'less I got narcotics
Scratchin' and itchin', he on that dog collar
Trunk full of tapes, I ain't got no dollars
By the time niggas
him comin' down the road
Four by four with a heavy load
But it was just some trucker with a trunk full of turpentine
I grew a beard and I shaved my head
the chrome double 4's
It's the Queens New Yorker with a bulletproof parka
In eighty-four, it was Calvins and British Walkers
Now I'm sippin Harvey's Bristal
you
For four hours and you just said, "No."
That's pretty shitty man, you're like his fuckin' idol
He wants to be just like you man, he likes you more
for them fuckers that trying P.H. with snorkels
Got a trunk full of clutches, blinding mine make you stutter
I blow like a hurricane, so close all
just to get by
I just pushed down
Whippin' on the corner with a bag in the trunk
For all my niggas never having enough
Like what the fuck is ever
behind cages, Don of all ages
Its Ghostface nigga never plead in the cases
But I plead the fifth, four-fifth by the belt buckle
Crack stone-faced niggas
really hot
I'm swanging four's and thinking thoed, banging hoes and changing clothes
Smoking dro and doing shows, paper stack can never fold
I bought
don't never come fake
I'm 'bout to hit Dove Way, just past Troy's
I'm dippin' by myself, I'm 'bout to call up my boys
I pass up the corner I see some
the free power close
Gotta get dun, and we ghost
Met papi in Iraq(huh?), then winged by the back
Opened up the trunk, and threw in the big gat
Took off,
no analog
Turn the corner and raise the front
My music is hella loud, so is this blunt
Unadulterated funk, baby
With four fifteens up in the trunk
and games
Until somebody get hurt
[Chorus]
Way now over there
I'm a now how to make a nigga beg please
When a bullet goes by
Probably feel a little
for that)
Brown paper bag (we the best)
Just pulled over in my 7-5
Big bottle on the dash, hope he let me slide
Got 20 in the trunk you can bet me
and plus clap us, niggas'll grab Bust'
Throw you in the rassle, yo, clap ups
Catch me at the Stephen King mansion, with four of my Branson niggas
With me,
a weed seller, but a crocka sack beller
A rap star plus a 2 time felon
Sellin' phones out the trunk I mix G with funk
I put it all together, and rock it
on the finest Cali
But im in Georgia
Trunk lifts on my rims, shine like a quarter
Panoramic roof clearer than a cup a water
Awesome, how Gucci flossin’
It's truly
Everything mafia growin' up Gotti G
Four fifteen's in the trunk I got a lotta beat
How could these niggaz be Dro? They don't know how to be
Dro
Niggaz
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