Lyrics:
Four chords that made a million
And then a moron with a check book
Will take you out to lunch who knows?
He will tell you you're a savior
And then
Four chords that made a million
And then a moron with a cheque book
Will take you out to lunch, who knows?
He will tell you you're a saviour
that blue flame then hang it dry like clothesline
I restore the feelin' of when niggas made a killin'
Hidin' choppas in the closet, half a million in
that blue flame then hang it dry like clothesline
I restore the feelin' of when niggas made a killin'
Hidin' choppas in the closet, half a million in
what a give away. Did you here that, did you here
that, eh? That's what I'm on about -- did you see him repressing
me, you saw it didn't you?
Scene 4
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
this bitch with a bunch of made niggas
You get your head blown (4KTrey, free DDawg, nigga)
Walked in this bitch with a half a million up in cash, I
a million cash, beat it Till it's black and blue, a million Ones that hate it
Too, a million get accused, a Million niggas lose, a million Bitches choose,
major nine
I'll play you two chords made in heaven
I'll play you my song one more time
One two three four
This is my three chord song
People just sing
play you two chords made in heaven
I'll play you my song one more time
One, two, three, four!
This is my three chord song
People just sing along
This is
it's like, I
Wrote three chords, four chords, and it
Fuckin' goes off when we perform it
Live and you know what? I
Love looking in the crowd and seeing
the blues
In the city of music
Tell the truth, play some chords
Pay your dues and praise the Lord
Cadillacs, 4x4s
It's the city of music
This ain't no
a call
To stop on a rap that I lead, so I pause
I give you 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
If that ain't enough, sit down till we're done
Syndicate scorned, you act
know I've got some imperfections
A million miles. I'd drive a million more to see us there
Two-eighty-four on my dashboard
Life's a journey, bring
Dedicated to the funk baby
that's how we do this, we been doing this
So I made a new album
Fresh out of retirement
I can't stay away, I'm ready to ride
came from nothin'
Three hundred, told 'em I'm gon' be somethin'
Four hundred, lost it all wit' no worries
How many steps that's to a million
mind on a million 'fore I turn twenty-six
But that's just what it costs for that condo at the Ritz
I got this European belt, belt, European bitch
Ever
rumbling telegraph to show that they’re ready to mate.
Francois:
File Transfer: New Recording 12.m4a
File Transfer: BOY.m4a
+1 (616) 856-7506:
it's real talk
I got some homies up in
Angola on that real walk
Ain't never coming home so i know what
They think up in their dome
My nigga 4 call me,
on four strings
It's really not hard
To be a bard
On four strings
What's hard
Is being heard as a bard
Who has something nice to sing
But just can't sing
would seem that I'm zooted off my ass, love and hate, I'm in between
I took a hit from the spliff and now my brain is getting stiff (I got a million
and open my guitar i have a Conde guitar
Which was made in Spain in
The great workshop at Number
7 Gravina Street a beautiful instrument
That I acquired over
them West Coast Bad Boyz
Best to check our tabloids
Ballin like Palo, cant have no fake bitches on my squad
I'm Rappin 4-Tay aint never made me none,
football players and baseball players
Whassup? You lookin for a million dollars or somethin?
Man you kinda confused
Freak mode! I'ma have sex
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