Tree High Climbers - 4 For 4 For 4

Blow through an ounce a month, and nothin less
Keep a zip on me, buttonless

I figure it out, I don't ask em how
Motherfuck a hook, I'm the captain now
Fuck a verse, this the testament to my way with words
If there's a chance to take us down
This the best you'll get, have to make it work

Fake at first, they're dead at birth
With lies they're nursed
Skipped the carriage, and they float to the hearse
Speak my mind when I jot the verse
Hot when I serve

You miss the mark, I hit my target every time
You aiming high, while I'm remaining high
My goals and I see eye to eye
You just hope it don't get hard to get your fist tight

Twist your wrist right, hear us louder with the knob
Salute cuz she's cute, I want the slob
She calls me Colonel when she's on the cob
Using the key to her heart, like I got the fob

I got goals, you want gold on your wrist
No style stolen, never fold from the risk
Original thoughts hid at all cost
Maybe why it could be so hard to hear this

Evolve my art till I'm fly as a finch
Look back like which ones which
Stitched that fit, you pay quick
Counterfeit, could call it thrifted, or just

Cry like a bitch

My rhymes as stupid as junior from my wife and kids
And I'm a Kyle too
If there's talk of going to clubs
One thing I won't do, is

Follow suit

Like I'm chasing lawyers
For flowers, I'm genus, magnolia
You'll never reach the level of Verne Troyer
On the grind I'm gonna enjoy it
Settle for raises from employers

Written by:
Kyle French, Owen Wendel

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find