Four Summers

Lyrics

[Verse] Fresh home from jail, completed four summers Calling for a meeting if the nigga's talking numbers Nigga I ain't greedy, I feed all my youngers The nigga robbed my gun so I shot him in the stomach That was back then, fast-forward now Shove £100K in a large Gucci pouch I love my nigga Twiggz, we're two killers from the South I bought a Glock with a whistle, it don't make a sound Put your hands on my skin in jail and you'd be dead on road Phantom Ghost, irregular pose Cracking skull, they call me Snap Capone How you think I got my name? I turn a sunny day grey, fifty shades AP that's my big bro, he whipped it till his wrist broke Always taking risks bro Life's deep so I dig a stick on me like a sticker Chest shot split his liver The way you rap, you are not that nigga Reekz load the gun while I get the dinger While you was busy stunting on the Gram I was making thousands from the can Rolling round with Demon, trips to New Zealand Chick Puerto Rican, my swag in season Coke in your region, hoes up in Neasden Snap far from lenient, my gun obedient I know a nigga caught a body then he turned to Christ I caught my first body, had to do it twice Get caught, that's thirty-five if you don't do it right My younger's tryna catch two a night They've got my nigga Nutty in confinement New plug dropping ten on consignment I don't feel that nigga, he's a sideman Tryna get this coke over like a migrant Gotta up the price if you want it on an arm I'm still with my Muslim brothers, Snap like Saddam I've got a new link and the nina was the samps These bricks from Dam but they're coming through France I could always tell if the client was an undy Me and Gus, nine months, caught a mill up in country Niggas want beef, it's going down like a bungee To walk in my shoes you're gonna have to spend a monkey It's Dior jeans but the top's Balmain That bitch is my side but you've gotta add your main Gus that's my brother, knows the code to my safe If you violate Tem, that's a hole in your face Listening to R.A., me and my compadres Did shit the hard way, in the GLC pushing Class A Feds stop skrr, that's a car chase More guns than an arcade, chest shot make his heart break Free my little bros riding thirty life I check niggas like the Burberry stripe Could've got lifed off, all praise to my God Gun ripped like a tight top Ride-outs, switch him off, ride off Write-off, nine pops, life lost, minus Beam in his eyes like Cyclops, head shot scrape his high-top Squeeze the trigger like eye drops