We got the 404, show em what it do.

Ten years in it really married to the lyrics,
Carry double digit amount of albums just to trouble pals to hear it
Spirited away, all my feelings in a safe and it's
ill, they're calling out "ill!", like they're missing paychecks,
and HK tryna eat way more than Lays, Chex, homemade bread.
Still in a way, fuckin' killin' it today, and it's
real, they're calling it real, like the next GTA
fuck a type beat, we slay
future's where i be, not the slimy way,
try me, bae, i'm a fly on your face,
‘cause fuck a wall, facebook just lies anyway.
I cop a bluntsmith the name of Nao then A
we tryna stay at a palace, while my pals practice front smiths.

I'll make it all better for you!
We got the 404, show em what it do.

Aye, it’s P-Tree dot mp3, LLC
with no limits tho so more like LC
you take L’s and seats
while I smoke L’s, Three at a time
you smoking dimes weekly
weak speaking emcees locked out
but the keys stuck to me
fuck a T-break
I breathe, puff and repeat
you tough as cheesecake
get deleted with the heat
I spit easily
I’m a keepsake
you disintegrate like pitas ate!
Peter’s great, he’s got a leaders fate
drinking liters of liquor
but fuck the P’s and purple drank
I’m climbing verbal ranks
you moving like a turtle
while I skate by
42 minute commercial break

gonna put em in the hearse today
they wanna hurt me
in the worst of ways

I'll make it all better for you!
We got the 404, show em what it do.