4

(Coupe)

Yeah, talking to ghosts, the topic is dope
Prop the chopper up right by the door
What's in my hand? The five and the four
Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4)
I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe
Thousands piling up all on the floor
Fine shit, line 'em up all in a row

Body shit and she kill 'em for real
Choirs'll tell you I'm him, for real
Scars'll tell where I've been, for real
Eyes will tell you I've been for real
Yeah, eyes will tell 'em
Yeah, eyes will tell what you didn't reveal
Vibe will tell what you didn't reveal
I ain't gon' tell 'em, my lips are sealed
I count up so fast, the ride get jealous
The whip so fine, the vibes get jealous
The 40 so fine, the 9 get jealous
Ain't nobody buying the lies you sellin'
Finding my mind on the mozzarella
We riding with choppers, they not propellers
You know I was bendin' blocks with felons
You know I want m's and not the letter
Pup on the chain, it had to go platinum
Spending my days in Paris for fashion
Spend a few g's, that just for the jeans
I didn't know the name, I had to go ask 'em
Commas on commas, it look like I'm havin'
Numbers on numbers, it look like a fraction
Fuck if you know 'em, you know we gon' tax 'em
Fuck if you know 'em, you know we gon'—

Talking to ghosts, the topic is dope
Prop the chopper up right by the door
What's in my hand? The five and the four
Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4)
I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe
Thousands piling up all on the floor
Fine shit, line 'em up all in a r—

Hol' up, front street, front street, front street
Put that shit on front street, front street, front street
Fucked her in a top suite
Her man know she not 'sleep
Know they wanna copy, know they gonna copy
Hol' up, I'm doubling down, I'm doubling up
Them numbers go up, we cover the ground
They run with the sound and cover it up
We run in they houses (doo-too-too-too)
I run in this bitch (too-too-too-too)
They rather run miles than run into pup
I'm coming to terms with coming in first
I come in a 'vert, she coming to fuck
She ride around with my gun in a clutch
The numbers and commas is jumbling up
Nobody told me to get on my hustle
Stomach was rumbling, that was enough (enough)
Huh, they wanna be tough?
None of 'em come from the jungle with us
None of these dummies go dumber than us
Humbly, nobody humbling us
I ain't from this earth (earth)
I'm straight from the dirt, most of the folk from the hood
I grew up playing in dirt, we laying in dirt
Niggas that don't get to stay gettin' murked
You don't get nothing from saying it first
I ain't getting nothing from taking this perc'
Pushing your luck, you lay in a hearse
You pushing right up
I'm new to this bitch, but knew from the jump that I would adjust the screws in this bitch
Couple of mine is loose in this bitch
One nigga tried, I'm losing my shit
Why would I lie? I'm true to this shit
Don't get my vibe confused in this bitch
Don't get my mind confused in this bitch
I don't know what I might do in this bitch, I'm—

Talking to ghosts, the topic is dope
Prop the chopper up right by the door
What's in my hand? The five and the four
Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4)
I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe
Thousands piling up all on the floor
Fine shit, line 'em up all in a row