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4 The Record - Lyrics

Woo hell yeah, let's talk to the niggas that do the most
I'm here, back again
It's your boy [?]
For the record, I like [?]
Ya heard?
And that's how we do it, for the record

This is for the record (hey)
This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah
This is for the record (hey)
This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah

Hey, man I'm in this whole wire
Stay up, I don't ever get tired
Heat it up, with a little more fire
Headed up, we can only get higher
Man, your girl give me head, like a visor
I ain't fuck that bitch, she a liar
You ain't heard that I roll with the writers
Give it up bruh, you don't wanna try us
Every time I hit the road, they be linin' up
All these hoes see me on, now they signin up
Gettin' money, I'm a sole proprietor
Keep on sleepin' if you want, man, that's fine with us
Back it up one time for a nigga
Mix a little bam-bam with the liquor
No, we don't got no problems over here bruh
And we gon' touch a mil' before the year is up

This is for the record (hey)
This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah
This is for the record (hey)
This is for the record (hey)
Hell yeah

Money on my mind, for the record
Runnin' through the marathon, for the record
And I put that on God, for the record
Somebody might die, for the record
Rest in peace, nigga Eazy-E, for the record
Mike & Keys, nigga on the beat, for the record
We could do this all night, for the record
Comin' from the Westside, for the record

This one for the pressure
This one for the bitches, that ain't givin' me no effort
This one for the L, shit they only made me better
They remember every fade, and sayin' this one for the record
I can't rectify the pain or the story of my gang
Ain't no freedom for my brain, with a 40 and a chain
You know devils love to play, in the shadows of my brain
I can't elevate or change, if all I ever do is hang
Really, all I see is shame
"Where my city at?"
Nigga, you too broke for you to know where all the bitches at
Homie on parole and he can't smoke, so he gon' hit a Black
You let somebody use your lighter, you don't get it back
I'm really at... I'm really in a bad place, and I ain't seein' good much
Tell me throw my fist high and I just throw my hood up
How you know your roof high, if you ain't ever looked up (uh)
Some shit I never understood
But I know this one for the record, I know this one for the death
They'll have niggas spendin' money 'fore we even see the check
Serena made it outta' Compton, she forever get respect
A parallel to how ya'll sit and do it for the 'net
I say...
This is for the record

You know what I'm sayin'
For the record...
It ain't nothing like fucking with [?] and you ain't got to motherfucking split it wit nobody, nigga. And that's really for the record, nigga
I put that muthafuckin' money in my pocket and I know, shit, I [?]
That's on God, nigga, for the record

Writer(s): Simmie Simms, John Groover, Anthony Tremaine Dixson, Michael Ray Cox

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