This is a song about "Four seasons gaming"

I show up with four hoes

"listen to the track bitch!" echoes

Connect four,connect rhymes

All the time with this glock of mines

And nowadays things changeeveryone's ashamed of the youth cause the truth look, strange

Truth be told in this game the seasons reflect on whether or not if a nigga might change/

I'm working on four dimensions

I never fit in with them light skins

Tire marks, tire marks

Four more tarts playing harps

Went through grievance through many seasons, fought many demons

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

Or keep small it around four

You ain't gotta hit the club no more

And tell the doc you'd be dead at four

You ain't gotta worry no more