4 Seasons

[Intro: Burna Bandz]
You know the grind, you can't cheat it
That's why I trap for four seasons
Demons in the Demon
Glock-19 leave you leakin'
All this ice on me but I ain't freezin'
Yeah I'ma let 'em have it
Shooters matchin' Gucci bandanas
Fuck around and do it on the camera
Like, look at all these bands I done ran up
Made the trap snow like Santa
Even when I'm leanin' on the Scanna nigga

[Verse 1: Burna Bandz]
This a Trackhawk, not no Camaro (SRT)
She say Burna I ain't tryna share you
Fuck her friend now she say I'm a player
Ballin' hard, some' like Tatum
All these extended magazinеs, I ain't talkin' bout the Fader
Trappin' out the buildin' and I'm sеrvin' all the neighbors
And you know by any means, man, I gotta get this paper
Bad bitch came through slayin' so you know I had to slay her
She ain't suckin' dick then I'll holla at you later
Don't come to my block, them youngins givin' out tapers
Got 50 bands just to ice out the [?]
Watchin' ozzies diamonds hit like Joe Frazier
We made em viral, put 'em on the front page, yeah

[Verse 2: Drego]
Man, boy, uh
Put you on the news
I can't lie lil' bro, can't even share a deuce
Got some top shop for you, it'll take a two
Got this hotrod for you, better be breakin' news
Niggas snooze, play the fool, knock him out his shoes
This shit brazy how I turn all of the greater blues
My shoelaces say "SHOELACES," this Off-White boo
It's kinda brazy c'ause my bag kinda off-white too
We don't play it by the rules, nigga, we gon make 'em, we gon break 'em
Hit him, shake him, right now they impatient
Niggas talk shit, that's the type of shit that turn me up and get 'em offed quick
Gotta chill down on em Percs, they be havin' me nauseous
I'm the shit, how the fuck this AR grow some tits? Send a blitz
Feds tryna sneak a picture so I'm fresh as shit
I can buy a nigga bag and I can buy his bitch

[Verse 3: Burna Bandz]
I can buy a nigga bag and I can buy his bitch
I can buy a nigga top and I can buy a brick
Rolls-Royce Cullinan, five-percent tint
Like Donatello, my young niggas play with sticks
[?] turn his ass fifth
Money on your head, you know we gon bring that cash in
Racks in, she gon' shake that ass for that backend
All these Borden's plastic, elastic, can't fit
Bando boomin', can't get a chance to eat, sleep, shit
Water on my wrist, bitch say it get her seasick
Crodie finger itch, he don't really need a reason
We deep in the club and you know we brought the heat in
And It's in his sleeve just in case these niggas schemin'
I got on Palm Angels but I'm hoppin' in the demon