Four Better or Worse (Pt. 1)

[Verse: Nitty Scott]
I’m Sam Cooke with the soul, like summertime sky
Peach cobbler on the ride, make the pies fly
Butterflies in July, speak in tie-dye
Punch-drunk off the rum, is you mai tai?
Looking at my guy, like, why would I lie?
Life is a drive-by, no, never a dry eye
So why don’t we eliminate the extra?
Shorty cannot play me, won’t you try playing Alexa?
They tryna reach me like they tryna get to Mecca
Plus I got perfection on thе record like Elektra
So gimmе the front, gimme a blunt and a picket sign
Spent more than time below the Mason-Dixon line
Black lives lit it up, I hear critics
But never will a bigot prevent me from getting mine