Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All Fours (feat. Yung Redd & Shawt Dawg), artist - Lil Keke. Album song Heart of a Hustla, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 08.01.2019
Record label: Seven 13
Song language: English
All Fours (feat. Yung Redd & Shawt Dawg) |
And now ladies and gentlemen |
The one and only may-backer… |
I got the coupe sitting on all fours |
I keep the prettiest of bitches, on all fours |
Double cup on all fours |
Lately, just tell me what’s it all fo' |
And what the fuck is going on |
You know I’m smoking on strong |
And what the fuck is going on |
Music up, while I’m blowing on strong |
All I ever did, was made money in the fishes |
Turning up with pennies, trying to work up to a bitch |
Reagan-era born into the world, that’s a prison |
Tomorrow ain’t given, tomorrow ain’t given |
Ken Dog, what you see on television |
Turn a ordinary bitch, into a video vixen |
They say bullets ain’t got no name on em |
I beg to differ, niggaz starving and they fade on em |
Innocent, until the world made me hard |
Made me bowl it up and blow, Nintendo carteridge |
Made em pay, for me to talk like a pay phone |
Black Camaro, on them black lips Grace Jones |
I’m in the studio, blowing on some’ing loud |
It’s Don Ke, bitch yeah I made my block proud |
Still in the parking lot, entertaining three hoes |
I’m one deep, in that two seater on all fo’s |
Music blasting, space age and futuristic |
Nothing but bad hoes, my taste is too specific |
Real nigga, with his top off and no drama |
Blowing presidential strong, nigga Obama |
I’m on my hustle, steady looking for that double up |
We out here leaning, and they fiending for that double cup |
24 inches, pretty bitches know I’m grown |
It’s 7−13, what the fuck is going on |
Just waking up in the morning, gotta thank God |
She with me, same color as the paint job |
And you gotta ride candy, here where we stay |
Suicide do’s, all fo’s like pre-k |
S.U.C. |
on replay, arm broken patch it |
I woke up to a threesome, I’m going for the hat trick |
Glock sitting here, cruise in traffic with my hat low |
My top disappeared, doing magic like Orlando |
I stay dranked out, from Sunnyside so I claim Scott |
Fo' thousand, better keep a closed mouth you can’t box |
Coming down like rain drops, this oil got me on tilt |
When your lighters on screen, so I’m higher than stilts |