4

(COUPE)

Yeah, talking to ghosts, the topic is dope

Prop the chopper up right by the door

What's in my hand? The five and the four

Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4)

I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe

Thousands piling up all on the floor

Fine shit, line 'em up all in a row

Body shit and she kill 'em for real

Choirs'll tell you I'm him, for real

Scars'll tell where I've been, for real

Eyes will tell you I've been for real

Yeah, eyes will tell 'em

Yeah, eyes will tell what you didn't reveal

Vibe will tell what you didn't reveal

I ain't gon' tell 'em, my lips are sealed

I count up so fast, the ride get jealous

The whip so fine, the vibes get jealous

The 40 so fine, the 9 get jealous

Ain't nobody buying the lies you sellin'

Finding my mind on the mozzarella

We riding with choppers, they not propellers

You know I was bendin' blocks with felons

You know I want M's and not the letter

Pup on the chain, it had to go platinum

Spending my days in Paris for fashion

Spend a few G's, that just for the jeans

I didn't know the name, I had to go ask 'em

Commas on commas, it look like I'm havin'

Numbers on numbers, it look like a fraction

**** if you know 'em, you know we gon' tax 'em

**** if you know 'em, you know we gon'—

Talking to ghosts, the topic is dope

Prop the chopper up right by the door

What's in my hand? The five and the four

Fire in my hand when I'm in the 4 (4, 4)

I'd be more scared of dying alone, not of a foe

Thousands piling up all on the floor

Fine shit, line 'em up all in a r—

Hol' up, front street, front street, front street

Put that shit on front street, front street, front street

****ed her in a top suite

Her man know she not 'sleep

Know they wanna copy, know they gonna copy

Hol' up, I'm doubling down, I'm doubling up

Them numbers go up, we cover the ground

They run with the sound and cover it up

We run in they houses (Doo-too-too-too)

I run in this bitch (Too-too-too-too)

They rather run miles than run into Pup

I'm coming to terms with coming in first

I come in a 'vert, she coming to ****

She ride around with my gun in a clutch

The numbers and commas is jumbling up

Nobody told me to get on my hustle

Stomach was rumbling, that was enough (Enough)

Huh, they wanna be tough?

None of 'em come from the jungle with us

None of these dummies go dumber than us

Humbly, nobody humbling us