4 Clove Club
Lyrics
Never had no patience
I got signed before I graduated
And I had good grades shit
But god damn I had to make it
In school didn’t know how to use computers made the rawest statements
I knew exactly what I was doing sense I put paws to pavement
Every block I walk the Gods done gave him workers paved him
Put palms to face when commas wasted on some basics
Basic shit
I’d rather drop some dough and know my homies ate some shit
Than have some glaze up on my wrist, look
Heard some shit about my flag lotta fucking talk
It’s simple I’m mixed to fit into a fucking box
Ain’t a riddle to this shit it’s just Papi trying pop
That’s just Paddy trying rap
John Gotti of the flock
Bob Marley with the pop smash hits on the pot
Yeah that’s what I want
Do me and still be hot
It’s a fucking bop
Can’t do green, blue screen too much green I rock. Ya heard?
I been on some next shit sense the get shit
Even when I get shit it’s on to that next shit
Been on ima get mine sense back in the Mets hat
But I don’t got time to fucking reflect back.
So I froze up then I rose up
4 clove club, coq what? Coqui and some cold cuts for the mutts
No more half halves make a flag throw it up
Get a bag, blow a buck
Get it back, grow it up
Not enough time to not grind
Been sonned to many times to not shine
Beer for breakfast
Hearing a text it’s
Uber here its a Lexus
On my way to some press shit
Next shit next shit shits depressing
I don’t even get it
Even when I got it, man it’s on to the next shit
I’ma be honest I don’t even want it by the time they get to press it
Now it’s on wax, facts, but a motherfucker gotta bounce back refresh shit
Test him, questions, press him, pest him thinking that I learned some lesson
I ain’t gotta learn no shit I just gotta burn a spliff and bless him
That’s my profession, flexin’
And I earned this shit, a professor tenure, drink while class in session
Stink of ash and benson hedges came with a pack of henchman, I’m back
I ain’t been this sick sense back in Peckham
Matter fact back when I was that rapping freshman, smacked
I been on some next shit sense the get shit
Even when I get shit it’s on to that next shit
Been on ima get mine sense back in the Mets hat
But I don’t got time to fucking reflect back.
So I froze up then I rose up
4 clove club, coq what? Coqui and some cold cuts for the mutts
No more half halves make a flag throw it up
Get a bag, blow a buck
Get it back, grow it up
Writer(s): Michul Kuun, Patrick Morales, Isaac Sleator, Eric Adiele, Antonio Hernandez, Alex Epton
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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