404 (feat. $kulll & MBRK) [Dec 22]

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Exedy

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Because I'm afraid of the dark
They thought it would work, uh
They thought could put us in the dirt, uh
Talk shit, get murked, uh

Put em up on a shirt yuh
I remember getting no love
Haven't nun to show of, money was low, as f*ck
And now we only going up

I remember I was making music
back then, got no luck
Starting battles, was losing them, but to be honest, I don't give a f*ck
Cut off the fakes that couldn't keep it a buck
Bitch I'm the goat, all y'all suck

Oh you don't like me, that's tough
Ride to the bank, big bucks

Yuh


They think that they can catch up, go ahead and do it
Cause I don't care if they hatin', I'm a still be making music

This shit a fucking bomber, you ain't never gon' defuse it
They mad I'm popping off, yes, I been moving stupid
Your career been drowning in the ocean, time to make some calamari
Treating this shit like a game, motherfucker no Atari

More versatile than any of these, but they not claiming I'm a artist
I'm the type to pull up to your house, and ask where your fucking art is
Play my music versus yours, guarantee it'll go the hardest
It was guaranteed I would pop out before I fucking started

When I heard this beat, I thought I was finna go retarded
If they talking any shit, we gon' be shooting where they heart is
No, I'm not Ye, but bitch, I'm still heartless
If they hatin', I'ma go Def Con 3, they all targets

404 like DJ Khaled, bitch, we the best music
Ain't no one believe in us, so we had to go do it
They say we don't go hard, so we had to go improve it
This shit they claiming is fake, I can see right through it

We came to change the game, take it over from you lames
Every verse we spit it flames, knock him out shut off his brain
Can't you see we ain't the same? If you ain't fittin with the move
then we gon' crop you out the frame, out the picture

I know we ain't big, yeah, but we getting bigger
Tryna drag me into beef, but they just fucking bitter
Now we be making our best shit, they all be fucking triggered
Versatile, we them boys, we them rappers and them singers

If you want some beef, I guarantee we'll be the winners
We been grinding, but we eating now
Okay, bitch, it's time for dinner
This song is fucking hot, and the bars are cold like it's winter

23 gon' be our year, we gon' check it next December
We gon' check it next December
We gon' check it next December
We gon' check it next December



I be climbing trees, y'all see me on my spy shit
Been knocked done before, they didn't really see the vision
Grass is getting greener, mother nature, have you seen her
Turner song song off never Tina Measure tings

I told them stop all the playing, please do not get full with me
Eddie ate some dynamite keep him the f*ck away from me
I did the grass with some roots, always in tune with the trees
Then I wrote an extra note, guess you could call it a fee

Religious Study how they move, but at 320 degree
Wild shit niggas be saying, paint the mark of the beast
Sold my stuff for a bag, it be crowded Like the East
Tai be on some different shit wanna know get on yo Nese

She be all up in my tree house, she on the wood I'm on the nails
Quarter Pound of nothing special I dont say don't tell no tails
I feed the ducks the devils grass and all they see is fine green
Canned up and I'm underwater niggas asking where I bean

I don't care what you be talkin got a tongue of your mistakes
You a lone wolf father left abandoned by a king
Even the Rubber Maid herself, couldn't retrieve you from the bin
But that's that Muskrat, always living in my walls

Clown show, put me to sleep, shitty music break my fault
See son, get out my face, I'm never throwing you the ball
Barry Bonds, swing at fakes, Knock his eye right out of place
Milking every single thing you got but how high were the steaks

Bitch, I'm still a master

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