This is a song about "Ae four"

No ho, acquainted with the floor

And tell the doc you'd be dead at four

Biggie got shot too with four shots

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

Like dissing benny and four twenty weren't enough

I'm in new york now, like akeem and semmi was

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

I'm working on four dimensions

Listen to every word that i slur

Farenheit four fifty one i'm on fire

Tire marks, tire marks

Four more tarts playing harps