4 hour drive - lolife blacc lyrics
[intro]
(f*ck it, turn it up cash)
(square made it happen)
its lolife
motherf*ckin’ blacc
lets get it
[chorus]
four hour drive, from nashville to atlanta
my boy just cleaned me out on sh*t you put inside your fanta
fill a box, tape it up, then ship it, then i track em’
ups just dropped the box, no patience, go and grab em’
b*tch just got a cdl, make her drop the load
asking what my occupation is, when i don’t rap, i work the stove
going platinum in the trap, last year i went gold
i don’t have a deal, b*tch, i break it down and sell it whole
[verse 1]
i work the vacuum seal, pull up and purchase, work a deal
mr. 448, but with the drink, they call mе dr. seal
this b*tch want me to listen to how shе feel, but i’m not dr. phil
my uncle serve it, eta on gps, go close the deal
they like when i rap, but keep it honest, this that scale talk
first class flight box, overnight, then come back, get them bales off
they keep asking, “are you signed? you got a deal?” i told them h*ll nah
i’m signed to the scale, step out the booth, got something to sell yall
[chorus]
four hour drive, from nashville to atlanta
my boy just cleaned me out on sh*t you put inside your fanta
fill a box, tape it up, then ship it, then i track em’
ups just dropped the box, no patience, go and grab em’
b*tch just got a cdl, make her drop the load
asking what my occupation is, when i don’t rap, i work the stove
going platinum in the trap, last year i went gold
i don’t have a deal, b*tch, i break it down and sell it whole
[verse 2]
its mr. 448, i’m inspo’ with the pop and stove
came a long way, from sleeping on that couch, i’m glad i rose
i started with a zip, took trips, and came back with a load
these n*ggas wearing fake jewelry on the gram, please don’t get exposed
the world they live in, all fantasies, never never land
lil boy never wanna grow up, i call his ass peter pan
i cut the fire, grab the fork, and shake the pots and pans
these n*ggas rapping, get respect from a middle man
[chorus]
four hour drive, from nashville to atlanta
my boy just cleaned me out on sh*t you put inside your fanta
fill a box, tape it up, then ship it, then i track em’
ups just dropped the box, no patience, go and grab em’
b*tch just got a cdl, make her drop the load
asking what my occupation is, when i don’t rap, i work the stove
going platinum in the trap, last year i went gold
i don’t have a deal, b*tch, i break it down and sell it whole
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