4 The Record - Buddy, Boogie

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