This is a song about "Four grams"

Ever since my grams got old she's been a bit nuts

And my brains travel like yung berg jewels

Something in his arm, he pushing more and more

But not with a four four, but with more of a score

Four more tarts playing harps

You haters put up your guards

1 blunt to roll 2 grams to put in it

I'll roundhouse you into a fucking basket

No more cutting grams, and wrapping grands up in rubberbands, i'm a

Hell yeahwould you kill for me nigga?on my grandmother, nigga

And tell the doc you'd be dead at four

And i'm all that, hit the passenger door

Look like james vanderbeek on eight grams of tweak,

But we know all the same people so we got to speak