Lyrics 4Get'em - Rick Ross, Wale, Rozay

4Get'em

C-note after c-note, put the remix on my kilo
Thought I wouldn’t make it, now I’m winning -- Timothy Tebow
Fourth quarter, I’m back;
fourth quarter, in fact
Fourth quarter, that sack;
Fourth Ward in all black
I said boss and I meant that;
advance, you spent that
Corvette so clean you’ll think Bruce Springsteen rid that
Cars just like sneakers, just got me ten pair
Dubai, I been there -- but fuck that, we in here
Roll up and inhale, I live next to Denzel
Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit real
IPhone and iPad, Air Max, and my gat
Left hand got ten bands;
back pocket, four stacks
All I need is bad hoes, all these niggas gon' rat
Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they’re going back
All I need is Benzos, squatting on Lorenzos
Stack my money tenfold, make this my new temple
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em
Fuck all you haters
Watch me fuck all these bitches
I got eight different Rollies
And they all mint condition
I’m screaming fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em
Fuck em, fuck em, I’m screaming fuck em
I got five different Benzes
This is my deposition
I’m screaming, «Fuck every witness»
Cause bitch, I’m big business
I’m screaming fuck em
'Migo hit my boost, 'migo hit my boost
What you know about walking in the Gucci store and they salute?
Chain cost a coupe, coupe cost a crib
Riding with the chopper, like it’s my friend
This for real niggas only, I still bet with Kobe
Got a sign in my garage that say, «Foreign only»
Four zips pouring, on mixtapes I’m touring
See my shit that fire shit, and yo' shit boring
I’m chain smoking loud like it’s a Newport
Dad wasn’t around -- my father figure was Too Short
New Porsche, deuced up, two cups got juice in it
Two forks, two pots, I could whip it both-handed
My girl is bow-legged, just do it like Bo Jackson
Every beat I’m toe-tagging, charm big as a Volkswagon
Money got me sagging, it really doesn’t matter
I run circles round these niggas' world like Saturn
Black Foamposites, it’s like we on that mobbing shit
Riding five deep and I’m as dirty as them congressmen
Sixty-two, without no tint;
missing roof on my new shit
Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit
Yeah, work, fuck you niggas, pay me though
Smoke that Mark McGwire strong, Oakland ain’t no basic smoke
Shout-out to your lady, a.k.a. MMG favorite ho
Tell that ass the way to go before I show her where to go
No Canseco, and I’m switching lanes at one six oh
A nigga trees fine -- a police siren!
Woop woop -- nah, that’s just Diplo
And you cute, shorty;
let’s get low
On the low, I’mma talk that jazz
Jungle fever for the night
Horny or white, that’s Anglo-Sax