This is a song about "Four nuns in a rowing bat"

Hasheem thabeet and various other peoples

Four in the air for the people stuck in their bubbles

"a mad hatter is up to bat.

Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Holdin' it in for four years, almost in tears

I was born in plights, the type that left me at four, torn, a tyke too forlorn to fight,

Let's find a spot for you to do me, in the darknow that it's passion, hold me tight

I don't find any nigga worth battlin', i'll put four rappers in.

I’m simply fuckin’ with bitches that know they whole position

Number four, the content in your rap's are just boring

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

I be spitting rap acrobats with a bat

Track and field with the birds, i’m running em like track