444 Poetry ft. ONYI Lyrics

We gone reap yea

We gone sneak yea

We gone take yo shit

We gone reap yea

We gone sneak yea

We gone take yo shit

I'm on the run on a lifetime

I hate to ruin yo lifeline

Diamonds they stuck on yo timeline

Looking at blood through the limelight

Wanna cuff you when the times right

Wanna make rhymes when my minds right

Been a few years since my life's right

I got the life of a blind guy

And I know I'm fucking up

And I know you wanna tell me how you feel about our love

And my niggas died by bulletholes they ain't die from incidentals

When my brother died I couldn't cry my anger took the issue

Saw my momma eyes when my uncle died and she told me she gone miss you

When it's summer time it's a homicide the police don't know the issue

He was 24 ain't see 25 his momma cried with missiles

I was tryna ride on a 45 the killers took my mental

Devil yea he had my soul you know I had to take it

444 I lost control my mind just started racing

Lord forbid I up this pole and shoot off all y'all faces

Different hoes with different homes they all like different races

50 Poles cause 50 holes the smoke is free like mason

17 I ran from love my heart was torn in places

The police home they kicking doors we changing the location

No coming home he upped the pole he couldn't fight his cases

Coming back yea we coming back run like running back

Plug gave me the quarter pack I serve it like a quarterback

Serving bowls on Thursday feens we're happy had to throw it back

Trap on origami oops came knocking had to fold em back

Running to the money nose is runny like she sniffing crack

Police caught the homie and they searched him but ain't find the crack

Asked him what he did he told me bro had put the crack In crack

Junkies get to running they be dancing like it's Mac attack

Like it's Mac attack people had to run it back

Ain't no sleeping in the trap we always running laps

And my mans did 22 he don't know when he back

His lil bro be holding it down but he can't ever nap

And my mind be outta control I wanna take his pack

You b flexing in yo whip yea we gone take yo scat

We was fucking on his bitch yea we gone make a stack

She wanna search my phone I told her she'll get hurt for that

Talking down on YBG man you'll get hurt for that

Fucking up the profit bronem ass got ***** for that

Pushing those narcotics we can't ever just relax

Cooking up the profit kitchen stunk was filled with Gnats

Send me yo deposit I can get you wins for that

Money coming hungry I can get you ms with that