4 DA THUGS ft. TraeThaKilla Lyrics

Run in to the bank

Tell em' put it my bag

Flash em' with that new ahh thang

I might let em' hear a bang

And my bullet like a fang

Watch out bitch I got a K

If I spray it ain't okay

This new shit might wake Coltrane

Please don't make me spill his brain

Dropping bodies off a train

Man I hear a lotta bangs

And I got even more rangs

Bitch I'm like 07 Wayne

Kill a citizen no kane

Mothafuck a job all I'm doing is I rob hoe

When I'm off the block hoe

Watch ya fuckin back bro

I attack like I'm KRS

Put you down to rest

Yous a pest

Bet you still depressed

Pressed and you confessed

Now I'm running off to west

If you hear that brrra brrra brrra

It's that mothafucking killa trae

Disappear without no trace

Cops can't find me fuck a chase

Hide my face I do the race I win the case

Bloody jumpsuit Like I'm mase

Clip on my waist

Stuck in my ways

One of theses days

Hide at my place

Keep up the pace

Tie your shoe lace

Lock up the safe

This ain't no baseball but he run to the base

Body in the freezer now it's a cold case

If they catch me I'm a rapp-ah

Shot him in the back-ah

I'm everything you lack-ah

16 bars no ah hah

Get up off my dick-ah

Boutta hit a lick-ah

Riding with the stick-ah

Writing with the bic-ah

Killer no filler i bring mystical styles

Every MC I body on tracks

Stacking their bodies stuffed into the piles

Call it crack muzik cause the bass gon crack your floor tiles

I hate all of these music industry lies

My face plastered on to New York Times

Why the fuck my momma cries

I ain't kill nobody I'm just doing fine

If you Cross the line fuck around and find out bitch

I might hit the afterlife and say what's up to Makaveli

Getting too hot I don't mean no Nelly

This that shit that ain't on Telly

Hit my Mothafuckin celly

Now I'm headed to the deli

Skipping over blood like ballet

I'm more flyer than the prince of belaire

Playlist motherfuckers act like they making your whole career

Guess what

I don't fear

Carlos he a bitch make him disappear

If he reappear hope he got no eyes

And no tongue so he can't spread lies

Way too extreme I don't give a fuck

Went off the grid time to hop on the charts

Rid of the opps I swear they was cops

Say they want smoke I give em' lung cancer

One Beat and a gun turned him to a dancer

My crib so haunted like the Lancasters

Your ego hurting you need a plaster

Go on my own I don't need a master

Preach all this gospel like I'm a youth pastor

Turning point for me I'm Julius randle

Bullet flew by it blew off the candle

My gun is a dog and I am the Handler

Click click click no Adam Sandler