4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))

4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))


Brick City, yo
Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young
I ate paint chips, the rare moon
That pair mics, my maintenance
I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts
For money, to your house arrest anklet
I take it all, if not, here's a thousand
Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men
I'm constant, on that paper chase
Blow zip codes from Bricks to 8-1-8
Doc serve to you liquor in the plate
Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya
Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment
Hit 95, then hide with the Waltons
Down South, the forty four feela
I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga
I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga
Westside highway running, homo nigga

[LL Cool J]:
I'm the sultan of the ghetto
The homicidal aficionado
I empty niggas out like Crystal bottles, uh
When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel
I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel
I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers
I knew my longevity confuse ya
Big paper game, come on run into these flames
Recognize the power of the royal King James
Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces
Like they drinkin' Guinness when they realize I'm not finished
I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin'
Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'
Platinum links, chicky eyed blonde hair,
Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks
Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink
Bend your little wifey over, help her stretch out the kinks
That's why ya nigga freeze when I step up in the building
The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children

Published by DELLA MUSIC PUBLISHING, LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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