(Intro) X4 lyrics

[Intro]
(Enrgy made this one)

[Verse 1: PM Capo]
Ridin' 'round with twenty trap P's, but it ain't for fent'
This n*gga said he got big Runtz, but it ain't legit
These weird n*ggas stay on di*k 'cause they ain't get rich
I ain't eatin' no bush, b*tch, shave your sh*t
Smacked this loafy n*gga out his Cartis, he gave me wit
I'll never wife a broke ho, couldn't pay me, b*tch
Shout out to fraud, on God, that sh*t made me rich
Yeah, I'll tie a n*gga up, make him hit a bundle
Damn, how you ugly and broke? b*tch, pick a struggle
Hit up Coney Island, burger hittin', make my pickles double
Paralyze a n*gga, do him how they did Pippen's brother, ayy
Paralyzed from the nеck down
b*tch, you can keep that bougie twat, I want the neck now
Bеnd her over on the V, yeah, I'm tryna dent doors
Bum n*gga brought his re-up money to like ten stores
Doggy wasn't tryna play his role, so he got sent for
I ain't arguin', I just say less, but I meant more
Brodie told me only chase the mug and not stress whores
I never drive a bucket, catch me shootin' outta X4s
Yeah, gang, we too legit
Ran outta attempts for the stoash, had to Uber it
Hit this lil' b*tch, her head smart, but got stupid lips
Don't ask how much I paid for this watch, b*tch, Google it
[Verse 2: Rio Da Yung OG]
Move, b*tch, get out my way, I feel like Ludacris
Just 'cause you kinda bad, that don't mean you gettin' your coochie licked
f*ck some Benihanas, took the b*tch on Jefferson and Bucharest
I been up rap hustlin' for three days, I could use some rest
So many chains on right now, I need two chests
I'ma need a notherf*ckin' neck, I get a new necklace
Got the pus*y quicker than a f*ckin' plane ride, you ever flew to Texas?
I'm a street n*gga
Forty racks on your head, it'll get deep, n*gga
You ain't takin' sh*t from me, and I don't keep pistols
Take four 30s at one time, I ain't a weak n*gga (Nah)
Blow your f*ckin' head off your neck, I won't beef with you
Bae, I gotta get a credit check before I sleep with you
My b*tch went through my phone, ain't have sh*t but MP3s in it
Perc' and a honey pack, just f*cked a b*tch for thirty-three minutes
I'm talkin' thirty minutes straight without stoppin', I'm weak-winded
A n*gga throw a shot at us, we on defense
I swung on a n*gga, Mike popped him up, they thought Timmy did
If a n*gga got killed in 2012, me or Remy did it
I just made forty racks, why you waitin' on your stimulus?
I hate gettin' into shootouts when I'm high, I'm always missin' sh*t
Cali plug say he lookin' for me, I'm in Michigan
Just ran off with a hundred 'bows from an Indian
Seen my n*gga say some hatin' sh*t and I ain't feelin' it
Makin' love to the pus*y, attempt murder, I ain't killin' it
n*gga, this is my flow, I ain't switchin' it
I can really tell you said some bullsh*t, but I ain't listenin'
Yeah, I broke my b*tch heart, I ain't fixin' it
And I whooped a b*tch ass at Walmart, you know I'm ignorant
[Verse 3: Young Dreaded]
I got a b*tch from Pontiac, I got a b*tch in Flint
I'm in Beecher right now gettin' my socks blown behind the tints
n*gga, where your PPP? Where your stimulus?
Make sure you got more money comin' in than money spent
If you ain't talkin' 'bout a bag, it's irrelevant
Me and Cap brought this spice talkin' sh*t to Connecticut
A couple P's of Pink Runtz, roll it up and I'm inhalin' it
You try to sell me fake lean, you insulting my intelligence
Robbed every plug that I knew way back in 2016
A thousand-eight grams times two, that's twenty-sixteen
That n*gga Young Dreaded on his sh*t, he doin' big things
'Bout to pull up at the chicken spot now and order six wings
I told the b*tch I ain't got no kids, she still call me daddy
b*tch, me, Rio, and Louie Ray was sippin' red in Cali
I hit a lick in the town and got low and pulled up in the Valley
Don't make me call lil' cuz 'cause you know that n*gga trigger happy
In CT, every city that's dangerous, I hit stains in it
I can show you how I blew past n*ggas, but I ain't explainin' it
f*cked a n*gga wife and she called it an entanglement
I thought you had the bag, lil' n*gga, where your paper went?
Where your bread at? (Yeah)
She like where the Stratford n*gga with the dreads at?
That n*gga came to CT trippin', got his head cracked
That n*gga told on his mans, I can't respect that, nah
I was ridin' in the 'Vette with two P's and a shh on me
You know real G's move in silence just like bologna
When you make it to the top, a lot of friends start movin' real phony
Bad lil' b*tch gon' throw the neck, but she don't know me
[Outro: Young Dreaded]
Yeah, uh
Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, okay
Huh
Yeah
Uh