Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Godfather 4, artist - Dave East. Album song Survival, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 07.11.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM, Universal Music
Song language: English
Godfather 4 |
Chicago, you’re still shootin' up |
And Boston, y’all still shootin' up (Yeah) |
And Queensbridge stay shootin' up |
Even in Wichita, it’s wicked, y’all |
You see a mic stand lit up under the spotlight |
A silhouette of a man slayin' beats that knock right |
I treasure whenever niggas or rhetoricals hit |
Orchestral tracks and nail it, smooth black velvet |
And rap intelligent, but then it’s just a low percent |
Who blow on some Nas, B.I.G., and Hova shit |
No offense but I was over with findin' young spitters whose names I remember |
Dave, Jay Rozay |
Dissin' your idols kill your future 'less your idol souped up |
Jamaica Ave Nas, cherry drop, couped up |
Still hittin' clubs grimy niggas occasionally shoot up |
Bang-bang, pow-pow, these snorters still toot up |
My dead granddad came to my cousin through a psychic |
I don’t really like it, pay prices for afterlife advice gets |
Kinda double jumbled, prefer to take my chances |
Who gets out alive? |
Nobody got the answers |
All we got is questions |
I told my bitch she hit the genetic lottery |
Love it when she lie to me |
A friendship is built over time and trust too |
But trust is a contract that constantly needs to be renewed |
For peace and solitude |
Peace and solitude, p-p-p-peace and solitude |
Trust me and love me, I trust you and love you |
Could you, could you, could you really show love? |
Like a tree fallin' in the middle of the forest |
Nobody heard your shit drop, it’s really garbage |
How come rappers you claimin' I got my style from |
Never pile one-tenth of my mint? |
No diss to them, men who got it in, this is now, that was then |
Different style, different Benz, it’s clear there’s a difference |
You resortin' to, uh, distortin' the truth |
Grindin', my offspring needs juice, walk in my shoes |
Yo, big bro, I’m from the ice pick era, light-skinned terror |
Thought I could sell this dope until my life get better |
Hieroglyphics, got 'em tatted on us, so it’s hard to miss us |
Reminiscin' my uncle sniffin' the Lionel Richie |
Soul Train over breakfast, Lexus across the Triborough |
They not thorough, how you my brother? |
You not Errol |
Soul Train over breakfast, Lexus across the Triborough |
You not thorough, you not my brother, you not Jungle |
A whisper of death, a kiss of life |
From Sade lips, my wish for life |
My neck wearin' exotic material, so excited I’m still here with you |
I cried about it with a sinister smile |
What’s notable, I been winnin' awhile, I’m a dazzler |
Ancient astronaut from the Dogon Tribe, gangster tatted up |
Time travelin' Nas, how I’m unravelin' this major paper |
And blast niggas like a Navy laser? |
System activated, board the cabin, orderly fashion |
I’m glad you made it, I’m the captain, flight time, three minutes |
Won’t be servin' lunch or dinner |
Your comfort is my concern, you could burn it if you feel it |
We’ll be cruisin' at forty thousand feet |
Your in-flight movie is Godfather 4 starrin' me and Dave East |
First class for the whole flight, go 'head and lean your seat back |
No lunch or dinner menu, but got champagne if you drink that |
Stewardesses models, gelato, you could bring it on |
The pilot cool, I snuck in the cabin so I could see the storm |
Joe Clark, the one that they leanin' on |
I just took my shoes off, shorty across the aisle look like Lena Horne |
Forty thousand feet, my wifi still crackin' |
You niggas is still packin', this flight about to land |
Pick your seat up, secure your area, clean up your mess |
Half the seats Louis Vuitton, we double G’d up the rest |
We don’t even acknowledge the ones you seem to impress |
Don’t forget your charger, we could fly whenever, be my guest |