This is a song about "Four grams"

Four more tarts playing harps

Please correct me, stretch marks

Every day was a saturday, shit

1 blunt to roll 2 grams to put in it

If we gonna last more, i gotta ask for more

So when i kick in the door, not waving the four four

The jiggas and the tips

I'm working on four dimensions

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

Now tomorrow you sober wishing you ordered a soda

I bring the tension in bricks, your raised it up a couple grams,

It’s a party in my pants and you invited with all that dance

I see the same hodon't get mad, i'm only bein real

I roll with real gangs stole 'n steal grams make a bitch squeal