Chuck Inglish - Four 12s lyrics

(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 n***a 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 sponsored links 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 n***a can’t fold it Rolled in with a b**h 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 n***a dippin Trippin ‘cause I f**ed 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 f** 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, s**a n***as 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 d**” Smoke dope and sell dope b**h I’m from DC, have the s**ies off that cellphone My motherf**er wire tapped n***a owe me money cross the country, tell em wire that Fire that, fat breezy full of tracks Loud pack, only smoking k**a, hoe Run in May season, Compton k**a low Fly sh**, 88’ers on him, such a pilot I do my own stunts, lil n***a don’t try this My old b**h a dove, she got a new n***a Happy for em both, I just made a few figures Off the motherf**in trap though Walkin through the front but I’m leavin through the back door a**hole, 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 d**h n***a, blow a ses n***a (Hook) Uh uh uh uh uh we’ll get back up Uh uh uh uh uh don’t trip, we’ll get back up