Chuck Inglish

Four 12s
Featuring Da$h & Retch (Verse) Four 12 kickers like it’s ‘94 Pop the trunk on em like it’s duffle dope Keep a million units, I could see to it Get the boulevard juckin like a thick booty Uh uh uh do it GO track a rap, trappin out of the Suzuki Fall back, boys know exactly what I’m doing In the Vera Cartiers and the Patrick Ewings Drop top with a chow chow puppy And my girl in a bikini top, breakin down the tuck Way she rollin coulda swear we’s going bowling If I can’t wear shorts then a nigga not going Triple gold rims, not stolen Twine got 5 cellphones on er, how you want it? Call me up if you want that plug If not, don’t trip, we’ll get back up (Hook) Uh uh uh uh uh we’ll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don’t trip, we’ll get back up (Verse) I’m the coldest, stack it til a nigga can’t fold it Letras de cancionesRolled in with a bitch from Beverly, she said she rollin Twistin up a blunt, sprayed I got 4 And then I filled her 3 holes like I was pullin 2 texts on my phone by the time a nigga dippin Trippin ‘cause I fucked er, my Jordan one stitchin Faded the limp, one brought up on hustle and pimpin These messages get ignored if it ain’t about no digits What’s the deal, dawg? I’m tryna touch a couple mill though Fuck a ounce, I’m tryna see how much it feel cold I’m Sam Rothstein, clean, grab the shakers In LA for months, I still won’t bet on the Lakers Head cracked, run it back, wutchu sayin? Hold ‘em baby, sucka niggas never playin I’m getting head while I hit my bud I’m in her mouth and then I’m out, we’ll get back up (Hook) Uh uh uh uh uh we’ll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don’t trip, we’ll get back up (Verse) I said baby girl “I do drugs” Smoke dope and sell dope Bitch I’m from DC, have the sexies off that cellphone My motherfucker wire tapped Nigga owe me money cross the country, tell em wire that Fire that, fat breezy full of tracks Loud pack, only smoking killa, hoe Run in May season, Compton killa low Fly shit, 88’ers on him, such a pilot I do my own stunts, lil nigga don’t try this My old bitch a dove, she got a new nigga Happy for em both, I just made a few figures Off the motherfuckin trap though Walkin through the front but I’m leavin through the back door Asshole, put that on the regular Rollin Keisha, never smoking regular Never bruh, never us, only smoke that pollside Get you high enough, high enough to go salute God Yea that’s death nigga, blow a ses nigga (Hook) Uh uh uh uh uh we’ll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don’t trip, we’ll get back up From Letras Mania