Brian Brice - 4 Flat Lyrics

Ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up, yeah
Finessing finessers, I get what I want (Sauce Money B)
I was getting stepped on now I'm stepping up (Bossed up nigga)
Now I own a hunnid they don't get a cut, (No boss, broovy)
Unemployed but fun-employed
I hit record it fill my void
I'm out the matrix made a choice
To make figures off my voice
Had to go figure where the bread at (Where my bread at)
The money finna come, it's where my head at (Where my head at)
Money don't make me nigga, I make that
And I'm no slave, I can say that (I could say that)
Young nigga got a way, yeah
Young nigga got faith, yeah
Young nigga know he straight, yeah
Young nigga up late, yeah
Young nigga mediate, yeah
Young nigga know he great, yeah
Young nigga break the bank
I don't rob, I break the bank
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Count this, all racks, I ran it up like 4 flats
Counting, we be steady counting
Counting, we be steady counting
Counting, we be steady counting
Counting, we be steady counting
They say fake till you make it
I guess I won't make it (that way)
My way take realness, and genius no faking
14 years old stressing financial statements
Pops wasn't home, momma had like zero patience
Growing up broke, made me to want millions
Wanna make it to 25 like I'm Ben Simmons
I cannot lie to myself and live life regretting
I cannot die gotta pay death off with a living
Wish for a button to make this world perfect
But that's not how it work
Learning in life, I had sit and observe
All the answers ain't come from the nerds
All of my toes had to stay in the dirt
I'm tight in the game like I was her first
Live Die by 9'5s man that shit for the birds
Forget having fun, she want the funds, she being honest
She had a dub, with a couple of ones
Inside of her pocket
Poor kid from the slum, had ran up her sums
Cause being broke toxic
She tryna grub, knees bend at the club
With her hands on it
And bounce that ass like a check for a check
Don't care for respect she just came to collect
I do not blame her, we black entertainers
Momma need payments, she deserve vacation
Her boss don't care for her they just want her working
Grind 24/9 need to conquer for certain
Put soul in these verses, still me behind curtains
Know honeys be chirping, these niggas be lurking
But, I do me with purpose
(4, 4, 4, 4
4)
We gon tell our bosses we won't work no mo
And we running ducking all the po po's
We gon hit hunnit bands that's fasho fasho fasho
Know God gon bless the meek, we poor no more
Plus I know who's me, I know fosho
To get rich I had to think, to grow fosho
Woahhh
I can't be broke no more, I'm running to the bread, oh shit.. (Falls on ground)