Carlos "6 July" Broady - 4 Souls lyrics

Intro: This is how we goin' do We goin' do this right Word, word is bond Know what I'm sayin' Six July with the track Know what I'm sayin You know how we do Word up, yo Let Dark pa** no stunting ]From the real Better get your 4 pound God Let's proceed Yo, what yo, yo Verse 1: LA I run up on rap like Boo Smith on a hatchback Put my patch down cause a head crack I'm trapped, in a hole filled with guns and d** Three-headers, nothing better 5% and thugs Style tight like O.J. gloves n***as state to state take a bug Cause I burn rich n***as who will hide slugs It's the coke that got me caught In this dead train of thought We stepped the coroner theft law from the Bronx New York Holding a pitchfork for cream Eyes on high beam, 13 Cooking up coke, selling as dope fiends Now realise my anger as I craft my chamber With no parental vision made a f**ing head-banger Who's in change a, you dis this judge you get finished Disrespect Darkman you get slapped with a Guiness Kid spin it, baby MC's I'm just choking 'em My sh** hits the town like 300 pounds of opium What, turbulence which is your first defence Scripts stay scrapped to k** an action-packed defence Cocoa plants, I payed the cost in a loft Now lyrically candy topping n***as and bu*tered soft As the holocaust Verse 2: Shotti Prepare for the k**in' shield Sight you lose to nightmares Stan man and my desert ??? Then I slip to the US, and then The battle thought you had me screw-finched hologrammed You can stick it to d**h Talk means you scot Einstein dangerous mind 2 heads and 4 eyes This man X I'm known when I'm off my shift Scarf on my waist pull then I'll scorch your face I'm like a copy-cat k**er Born for strangling n***as Then pull figures Receive and rob the spot like Dillinger Settle cap like ??? I'm saber-toothed coming at you Forfeit the minds can't win wit' no .22 Get nuke and henny rock 80 proof In the hood, never sipping while I'm drinking my j**el Dance to my ritual, lower you into my seance b**h wearing Avon Mr. Miyagi Wax On I'll buck, you frontin' wit out that GK bubbly stuff Gang games for schools that's why your whole sh** gets laced up With the mic as my staff I inscribe my witchcraft with full blast Buddah cut, shot these screw cats Verse 3: LA When I'm lifted Rip sh** up kid quick I'm busted On any demon puffing hizo can't be trusted Lustic lyrical blunts be like mud DARKMAN THE KING, lampin' on my throne of blood Lynch men, verbal henchmen, kickin' your door in Blastin', rip, flippin' your sh**, rippin' your organs Triple darkness, lies trap a constant rip juggler Snake eyes dedicated undercover smuggler As I cut you I slice your brain right without the mic Vivid literature pictures shine like four nine lights Time in space, grab your head-bands, suffocate Call me Chester so i had to let Them rappers I wake on f** 'em break I hold crack like your a** Lick shots from the techs then jet through the wet gra** Bubble worth like a ba** Darkman instancy, sniff canibus living Part in the Caribbean Sea Through your history the dark scenes will make you ears beam Talking 'bout hitting rap then sit back and hit your weed LA can walk through walls stand straight up in fire Look at your eyes look at my eyes p**y And tell me who's higher Darkman empire guard you now like a gun Loading wid nine rich n***as and I'm bound to be the tenth one Verse 4: Shotti Read my jungle Got the far eye see shot predator Detonator blowin' up city blocks Wid' a large watts About six clocks That's high potent k**ers on each corner Wid guns ready for smoking Six sense Indian head hancho Yo my peso got royals that screw Castro Operation statement my technique will be an experiment For my alliance I catch skins of ten lions What you trying tasting this sawed off iron Adjustable punk fashion came out your whole batch My plan to wrap this town like Saran All I need is guns and a few good men Shotti, stay like Scarface wid a key to shoot somebody Come get me, my fingers dipsy Who's coming whippy, I'm a yippy First enemy who's stealin' filthy Size 'em up break 'em down I'm guilty My sons is wit' me Shot like 150 watts and fistful like Kung-Fu plots Wid my sing-sing shot You form something that can't be stopped Got a Glock the f** up your snot box wid a shot What! Outro: Sing-sing Knaw what I mean LA The Darkman Shot these fool faced keep your boots laced Many many fakes and gun rules M-A-D, wealthy k**a Bees