Dead Presidents IV

[Produced by Ski, C-Sick & Young Guru]

[Hook: Nas]
I’m out for Presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to represent me

[Verse 1]
They call me Solomon Kane, I Wallow in Pain, tomorrow
I follow the chain, I tolerate Caine, the sorrow
But you can call me Kane for short, cause I both sell and spit caine for sport
The painful sort, you know who I am
You know that I will die for my man’s
So don’t fight us, cause were righteous, and you’ll lie in the sands
Power’s essential, but money makes the world go round
The dollar bill is what will make your girl go down
You fuck with me then I’ll do shit the Cali way
The Glock makes art, and it’ll look like Salvador Dali sprayed
It’s saturday, Saint latter’s day, stole cash astray, I blast away, his brain matter sprayed
I had to sell crack on the streets to get back on my feet
And if you wack on this beat, you’ll get the blast from my heat
I’m so slick that I go out in public pickin’ chickens
And when it’s gone, the feds think I’m a fuckin’ magician
Fuck whatcha wishin’, just wait until the drama dies
Cause if you start poppin’ stupid shit then you’ll be beggin’ fo a homicide
Enemies see me through the Llama’s eyes
(Pop Pop) we cop Glocks and laugh when we hear yo Mama’s cries
Ain’t no need to dramatize nobody could change me
Fuck tulips, your ass pickin’ flowers you’ll be pushin’ up daisies
I'm not Gotti, I'm all for thriving in silence
Cause if you not, your life will flash through your eyelids
Come on

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2]
I got my revenge, sold my soul to the devil for riches
My murder game crazy, but on another level for snitches
Ya’ll looking round like the Konami Code
Up, Up, down, down, left, right, left, right, lookin’ for my pot of gold
While ya’ll dealing with Drama Hoes, I'm smoking up Ganja tho
Couture has opulence minus the blood drops on my Mobster clothes
Wankstas horrifically two stepping with they lobster toes
Got beef and I will bury the hatchet like Geronimo
My life will always be blast with the mac first
Or you’ll end up in the back of a black hearse
You wanna get the scoop then come by the Ben and Jerry’s
I’ll leave you dead and buried, more black tuxes around then when you were gettin’ married
My men are scary, trained killers, armed psychopaths
We roll deep, and we don’t follow the righteous path
In order to make the presidents, you need to be tight at math
And when your homies betray you, you need to entice your wrath

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3]
The hustler's life is lonely, everyone's out to get you
Dealing with all these traitor haters and loathing that they will disrespect too
This shit let me live out my dreams, I'm making it to the top
This shit let me spend out my cream, I just hope that I don't drop
They tell me, keep your friends close but your enemies closer
But they’ll both take you down in the drop of a hat, for some chocha
Just look what happened with Sosa, he sent squads to storm his buildin’
Just because he wouldn’t take the life of innocent children
Al Capone got sent into jail for tax evasion, it’s that amazing
Billion dollar empire, deal with cops that harass and chase us
We were born from the shit that was forced upon us
We just made the moves to better our lives that’s coursed and dishonest
Now I’m forced to demolish, anyone obstructing our path
I refuse to go down in a blaze without the final laugh
It’s like seeing through Judas’s Lies
Betrayal through Freddy Kruger’s eyes
Horrendous dreams of pulling out Rugers and shootin' through stupid guys
I have no other options, calculate moves and wait til’ all the losers die
It’s either Doe or Die or Suicide
You decide, mothafucka

[Hook]