4 Years Ago lyrics

[Intro: YSR Gramz]
(Enrgy made this one)
Okay

[Verse 1: YSR Gramz]
My lil' n*gga broke as hell, he really tryna rob somebody
Why the f*ck you even got a gun? You never shot nobody
My n*gga ran through 100K, he ain't got no wallet
Seen an opp the other day, he said we ain't got no problems
I knew he wasn't on sh*t
Took my cheese to Gary and I came back with a froze neck
I don't really f*ck with doggy bone, he a whole b*tch
Gave my b*tch two hundred dollars, go get your toes did
All that sneak dissing in your raps gon' get your ho hit
f*cked this b*tch for forty-five minutes, she want more di*k
Told the b*tch I know the Coochiе Man, she got more wet
Hold on, you see that n*gga with that AK?
A n*gga touch this chain on my nеck, he gon' die today
Told my n*gga Tee pull up, let's get high today
I stuffed fourteen grams in it, b*tch, I'm out in space
Came through in that R/T, b*tch, get out my way
b*tch steady asking for a hundred, b*tch, get out my face
She said she got some good-ass pus*y, let me see how it taste
A lotta these n*ggas really out here riding n*ggas' waves
Where I'm from, the sixteen-year-olds ridin' around with K's
They so ready to drop them a n*gga, they 4K Trey
Four years ago, getting on n*ggas with a thirty-eight
Dropped so many lines in a two-liter, that's a dirty eight
She known for sucking everybody di*k, she got a dirty face
[Verse 2: RMC Mike]
No cap, they play a n*gga music 'bout in thirty states
Woke up and drink Wockesha, this an early eight (Hold on)
b*tch said I got— hold on, what girly say?
I think I fell in love with the coochie at an early age
I had to straighten my b*tch out, she had curly braids
I think your b*tch a ho, she got scary ways
Michigan run the rap game, yeah, we better made
I been getting money with my n*gga from the second grade
Quavis move the bag quick as hell, he can't stop for sh*t
I'm a dawg with dog sh*t on me, that's a pile of sh*t
Girly f*cked me cause I drop a chain, that's a compliment
I tried to beat her down from the back, but the condom ripped

[Verse 3: KrispyLife Kidd]
Sick, I just shot a n*gga from a mile away
My cameraman moved, so I gotta hit the A
Mike only want the zazas, the London and the Cake
No, f*ck that, he want the Cake, pound of the London
Somebody was bumping an opp music, he almost got shot for nothing
Seen an opp in the club, he almost got popped for clubbing
Me and you are not the same, you do not be on nothing
My pint was short, so I had to fight my uncle
Head was so good on old girl, I should've recorded this sh*t
Stab a n*gga up, put holes in him, gave him a jersey kit
Why you do that, man? 'Cause you deserve this sh*t
Forty-two shots out this b*tch you and J. Flaherty twins