This is a song about "Four"

Twenty-four carats, countin cabbage, like the arabs

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

Finish line with the tire marks

Four more tarts playing harps

And i can't even look the other way

Methamphetamine fuelled rage killed four today

Your dad's purple heart now hangs over his ashes

In your case that'd be like four horses.

Dad wasn't around -- my father figure was too short

Smash into your four-by-four door ford in a honda accord,

Fuck, clean up on aisle six

I'm working on four dimensions

Fuckin' up my gold pots

Biggie got shot too with four shots