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Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Oh, yeah You know me, oh IV Big Glock 4, oh yeah Ride in a four door, yeah We was servin' low low, yeah Come get it for the low low, yeah Never cuff a ho ho, yeah Drive it off like oh ho, yeah Take it to they front door, yeah Never talk to po-po And I got a old soul, yeah (And I got a old soul) I'm sorry that I got a old soul, yeah (I'm sorry that I got a old soul) But we only totin' on four fours And I'm never breaking the bro code Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah (Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah) I'm sorry that I got a old soul, yeah Like can I get a minute, let a nigga finish I'm too deep up in it, uh They hate how I'm winnin', sorry I been sinnin' They say I'm forgiven, uh Mad that I can't flip it, I put up them digits Told 'em go and get it, uh Letras de cancionesFind 'em out here spinnin', man they got precision I know they ain't missing, uh Tryna please my momma, stackin' up these commas I'm just like my poppa, uh I ain't with the drama, call me dadadada I move like Obama, uh Plus I keep a llama and I love the choppas Bitch I'm like Mufasa, uh Hotter than a sauna, name a rapper hotter I'ma say he not a, uh I'm I'm in love with Louis, I'm in love with Gucci She in love with Prada, uh He say he gon' shoot me, bitch my life a movie I get that a lotta This clip hold a hundred anacondas, stick it in the choppa Show you who's a shotta, bitch, pick up your partner Nigga now I got it, you can't say de nada Big Glock 4, oh yeah Ride in a four door, yeah We was servin' low low, yeah Come get it for the low low, yeah Never cuff a ho ho, yeah Drive it off like oh ho, yeah Take it to they front door, yeah Never talk to po-po And I got a old soul, yeah (And I got a old soul) I'm sorry that I got a old soul, yeah (I'm sorry that I got a old soul) But we only totin' on four fours And I'm never breaking the bro code Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah (Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah) (Big Glock 4) I'm from that block where they drive and they kill Young nigga starvin' and mobbin' for real Way before rap, it was Glocks in the field Talkin' like that 'cause he prolly for real I was front lines, still will when it get real Couldn't be a kid, now I'm grown got a big wheel Slid on niggas, better ask how the [?] feel Only Thursday, we done been on six drills For real Lit with no deal Still in this bitch while my niggas on bills All o' this ice in this bitch, I'm on chill Can't do no rap nigga shit, get no grill Can't be on rap niggas dick I want mills I really slept in the trap with no meals I really slept in the trap with them steels Four seven kick in the door, gotta peel I'm still that nigga This like my eighth year in rap and I'm richer I still a bust down the packs with my niggas I just might walk in the trap with a Richard (Mille) I close my eyes, I see cap, I see crystals Open my eyes, I see Kobe, see pistols Fuck it, I'm gon' get some more o' these dividends I slept in county, can't go in that bitch again (Never) Crushes and felons Juice make me want put a four in the bitch again Told you I never look back, you weren't listening Now I'm so fried, we gotta keep distances Two niggas bitches, don't tell me what bitches did I don't do internet, I'm really in this shit Act like you into that, nah, you ain't innocent (Bah, bah) It ain't no witnesses Big Glock 4, oh yeah Ride in a four door, yeah We was servin' low low, yeah Come get it for the low low, yeah Never cuff a ho ho, yeah Drive it off like oh ho, yeah Take it to they front door, yeah Never talk to po-po And I got a old soul, yeah (And I got a old soul) I'm sorry that I got a old soul, yeah (I'm sorry that I got a old soul) But we only totin' on four fours And I'm never breaking the bro code Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah (Do this shit all for my big bro, yeah) From Letras Mania