Wale - 4 AM (Feat. Black Cobain) | Текст песни

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• Wale
• 4 AM (Feat. Black Cobain)

(Black Cobain)
Destinies fulfilled off the filling from the pillow talking
How you killing my highs I hope you built the coffin
I got virgin lungs please excuse the coughin
Think I’m bout to blow, they call me George from boston
Respect is never given so I confiscate it
Get acquainted with mine I get them aclamated
Cherry red dice I’m a gambling man I’m never taking twice
Had to escape the life
This ain’t for all and every people, don’t compare me to rappers
I’m trying to be like The Beatles,
Give me some soul money, n-ggas is gassed up
Tell them to keep it running, I’m keeping the grass cut
No snakes, royalty hating n-ggas don’t get no p-ssy
So it’s more for me, she invited me in her mouth
You know it’s cordially we throwin’ racks, she said please don’t talk to me
All my n-ggas is winning, shout out to Charlie Sheen
I spitting bars the metronome the money machine
A money machine, of course I’m trying to be the king that was part of my dream
and Wale told me f-ck yall, so we f-ck yall, we don’t love yall
Loud B.O.T. above y’all, patron at 4 am, f-ck the last call
The way your heard of that, the way yo heard of y’all

(Wale)
Dogging, Hard listen mean mugging
For when n-ggas don’t see their C’s till they see the judges
Dark side of town, baby mama blues,
When drama ensues n-ggas and dama can sue
Old lying ass defensive ass boys
Why you knock that bitch up if you can’t tend it out boy
I’m a tenant my opinion is monumental
I’m here forever, these other n-ggas scribble in pencil
Got indelible colors, only look where they’re buzzing
I’m at Dallas with luggage fly straight to the money
And you don’t understand my slang my colloquial’s lovely
So they quote me and love me like I’m a poet or something
Hoe I kick it, I punt it like Reggie Roby or something
Shady bitches’ll feel me, Reggie Smokers disgust me
Make the least of you haters, make the most of your money
Have that consistence drive long as your motor’s running
I used to heat up mama house by opening ovens
Now mama see that shit on Oprah and know that it’s coming
That’s real shit, it’s bigger than rap, my n-gga Cole busy, but genius is back
I light up my spliff take a sip of my yack
Thinking back of when the city weren’t thinking of rap
They weren’t thinking of rap, they weren’t giving a f-ck
Now everywhere I go they be giving it up
I seen it all from a dime to a quarter
They had that rocking like a Park that’s word to Mike Shinoda
Shout out to captain Ginnny and free my n-gga Ricky
We always pray for polo, we miss you little Penny
We skip college, chase dollars and black pennies
Not in the kingdom of Zamunda but it’s mad semi’s
Where bad bitches with bad intentions just act friendly
This where they love you then they hate you, go and ask Fifty
Yeah, go and ask fifty
They love you then they hate you, go and ask fifty
Go and ask fifty, hating ass n-gga, sweeter than sibling
Who got the juice n-gga ?
juice n-gga,
juice n-gga,
work, work, work, work, work.


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