4 AM Wale (Ft. Black Cobain)

[Intro: Wale]
Welcome to paradise
Paper planes, long flights

[Verse 1: Black Cobain]
Destinies fulfilled off the filling from the pillow talking
How you killing my highs I hope you built the coffin
I got virgin lungs please excuse the coughin'
Think I’m bout to blow, they call me George from Boston
Respect is never given so I confiscate it
Get acquainted with mine, I get em acclimated
Cherry red dice I’m a gambling man I’m never thinking twice
Had to escape the life
This ain’t for all and every people, don’t compare me to rappers
I’m trying to be like The Beatles
Give me some soul money, niggas is gassed up
Tell them to keep it running, I’m keeping the grass cut
No snakes, royalty hating niggas don’t get no pussy
So it’s more for me, she invited me in her mouth
You know it’s cordially we throwin’ racks, she said please don’t torture me
All my niggas is winning, shout out to Charlie Sheen
I spitting bars the metronome the money machine
A money machine, of course I’m trying to
Be the king, that was part of my dream
And Wale told me fuck y'all, so we fuck y'all, we don’t love yall
Loud P.O.T. above y’all, patron at 4 am, fuck the last call
The way your heard of that, the way yo heard of y’all