Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 4 Yo Ear, artist - South Central Cartel.
Date of issue: 02.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
4 Yo Ear |
S.C. Cartel bumpin fat tracks in your ear |
Rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good |
Rollin down the 'Shaw in my Lexus |
(?) rims and my Alpine bumpin |
The 808 is thumpin |
Dippin down yo block, battery’s hot in a rag deuce |
Flossin on threes, gold d’s for my gees |
Slidin (?) dub skatin evil as I swerve |
Hit the switch on a bitch, post my Daytons on the curb |
Easin through the hood, scope the scenery |
Fiendin for the greenery |
Gotta stack a end as I bend |
North on the 'Shaw past the one-time flossin |
Catch a fool slippin on them 100 spokes, he’s walkin |
Home like a buster, let the Alpine crank |
Switch the CD as I fire up the dank |
Oh thank God I’m a rider, Rhime Son be |
Yo, that gee from the Carte… |
With pockets on swoll' and the caviar’s callin me |
And niggas mad-doggin me bringin out the hog in me |
Punk-ass busters wanna show me, they flexin |
Parks my six-deuce as I jumps in my Lexus |
S.C. Cartel bumpin fat tracks in your ear |
Rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good |
Once again it’s on, polish up the chrome on my coupe d |
Open up a new (?) |
The (?) is in my deck and it’s rockin |
Shockin, hoes wanna pose but I’m knockin |
Boots as I swoops down the 91 West |
Yes, I gots to wear a bullet-proof vest |
Fools wanna trip so I trip back on em |
Fuck they ass up till they hoes don’t want em |
I’m on em, the Eastside gees and the P |
At ease, you don’t wanna fuck with these |
And we’se the malice, careless muthafuckas |
Puttin pooh-puts in a jammie like Smuckers |
My knockers holdin shit down like the underground |
(We'll make you go round and round) |
So now I’m callin up my crew |
And what you gonna do |
When you see the niggas in blue |
S.C. Cartel bumpin fat tracks in your ear |
Rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good |
Rollin down the 'Shaw in my Lexus |
(?) rims and my Alpine bumpin |
The 808 is thumpin |
One mo' time through yo hood and mines |
You’re walkin thin lines on these bomb-ass rhymes |
And verses, sleepin off in hearses |
Niggas on the run cause my flows cause curses |
With verses, we ain’t in this game for the fame |
We just like servin hoods like a muthafuckin hurricane |
Muthafuckin busters, me and Twin puttin it down in '96 |
Tossin up tricks and crossin niggas like chop sticks |
Shit I spit hits your ears and cause pain |
Stressin out your frame like you got Slim-Fast on your brain |
It ain’t no thing to be a in-the-cut rider |
And it ain’t no thing to be a black godfather |
Think of a nigga standin 5 foot 6 |
With some baggy-ass pants and some bomb-ass kicks |
Twin gives a fuck, loc, cause I’m a rider |
With my nigga Droop be O.G. |
Westsider |
Rollin through your hood is another nigga from the Cartel |
Who done earned his stripes |
Bumpin «Flashlight» |
Tryin to get rich like Richie |
through my city |
S.C. Cartel bumpin fat tracks in your ear |
Rollin in your hood and you know it’s all good |
Rollin down the 'Shaw in my Lexus |
(?) rims and my Alpine bumpin |
The 808 is thumpin |