| Chicago, you’re still shootin' up
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| And Boston, y’all still shootin' up (Yeah)
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| And Queensbridge stay shootin' up
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| Even in Wichita, it’s wicked, y’all
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| You see a mic stand lit up under the spotlight
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| A silhouette of a man slayin' beats that knock right
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| I treasure whenever niggas or rhetoricals hit
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| Orchestral tracks and nail it, smooth black velvet
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| And rap intelligent, but then it’s just a low percent
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| Who blow on some Nas, B.I.G., and Hova shit
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| No offense but I was over with findin' young spitters whose names I remember
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| Dave, Jay Rozay
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| Dissin' your idols kill your future 'less your idol souped up
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| Jamaica Ave Nas, cherry drop, couped up
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| Still hittin' clubs grimy niggas occasionally shoot up
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| Bang-bang, pow-pow, these snorters still toot up
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| My dead granddad came to my cousin through a psychic
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| I don’t really like it, pay prices for afterlife advice gets
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| Kinda double jumbled, prefer to take my chances
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| Who gets out alive? |
| Nobody got the answers
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| All we got is questions
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| I told my bitch she hit the genetic lottery
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| Love it when she lie to me
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| A friendship is built over time and trust too
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| But trust is a contract that constantly needs to be renewed
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| For peace and solitude
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| Peace and solitude, p-p-p-peace and solitude
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| Trust me and love me, I trust you and love you
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| Could you, could you, could you really show love?
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| Like a tree fallin' in the middle of the forest
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| Nobody heard your shit drop, it’s really garbage
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| How come rappers you claimin' I got my style from
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| Never pile one-tenth of my mint?
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| No diss to them, men who got it in, this is now, that was then
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| Different style, different Benz, it’s clear there’s a difference
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| You resortin' to, uh, distortin' the truth
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| Grindin', my offspring needs juice, walk in my shoes
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| Yo, big bro, I’m from the ice pick era, light-skinned terror
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| Thought I could sell this dope until my life get better
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| Hieroglyphics, got 'em tatted on us, so it’s hard to miss us
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| Reminiscin' my uncle sniffin' the Lionel Richie
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| Soul Train over breakfast, Lexus across the Triborough
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| They not thorough, how you my brother? |
| You not Errol
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| Soul Train over breakfast, Lexus across the Triborough
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| You not thorough, you not my brother, you not Jungle
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| A whisper of death, a kiss of life
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| From Sade lips, my wish for life
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| My neck wearin' exotic material, so excited I’m still here with you
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| I cried about it with a sinister smile
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| What’s notable, I been winnin' awhile, I’m a dazzler
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| Ancient astronaut from the Dogon Tribe, gangster tatted up
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| Time travelin' Nas, how I’m unravelin' this major paper
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| And blast niggas like a Navy laser?
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| System activated, board the cabin, orderly fashion
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| I’m glad you made it, I’m the captain, flight time, three minutes
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| Won’t be servin' lunch or dinner
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| Your comfort is my concern, you could burn it if you feel it
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| We’ll be cruisin' at forty thousand feet
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| Your in-flight movie is Godfather 4 starrin' me and Dave East
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| First class for the whole flight, go 'head and lean your seat back
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| No lunch or dinner menu, but got champagne if you drink that
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| Stewardesses models, gelato, you could bring it on
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| The pilot cool, I snuck in the cabin so I could see the storm
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| Joe Clark, the one that they leanin' on
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| I just took my shoes off, shorty across the aisle look like Lena Horne
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| Forty thousand feet, my wifi still crackin'
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| You niggas is still packin', this flight about to land
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| Pick your seat up, secure your area, clean up your mess
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| Half the seats Louis Vuitton, we double G’d up the rest
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| We don’t even acknowledge the ones you seem to impress
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| Don’t forget your charger, we could fly whenever, be my guest |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Godfather 4 , by - Dave East. Song from the album Survival, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп