Dead Presidents IV

[Produced by Ski, C-Sick & Young Guru]

[Hook: Nas]

I’m out for Presidents to represent me (Get Money)

I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)

I'm out for presidents to represent me (Get Money)

I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents to represent me

[Verse 1]

They call me Solomon Kane, I Wallow in Pain, tomorrow

I follow the chain, I tolerate Caine, the sorrow

But you can call me Kane for short, cause I both sell and spit caine for sport

The painful sort, you know who I am

You know that I will die for my man’s

So don’t fight us, cause were righteous, and you’ll lie in the sands

Power’s essential, but money makes the world go round

The dollar bill is what will make your girl go down

You fuck with me then I’ll do shit the Cali way

The Glock makes art, and it’ll look like Salvador Dali sprayed

It’s saturday, Saint latter’s day, stole cash astray, I blast away, his brain matter sprayed

I had to sell crack on the streets to get back on my feet

And if you wack on this beat, you’ll get the blast from my heat

I’m so slick that I go out in public pickin’ chickens

And when it’s gone, the feds think I’m a fuckin’ magician

Fuck whatcha wishin’, just wait until the drama dies

Cause if you start poppin’ stupid shit then you’ll be beggin’ fo a homicide

Enemies see me through the Llama’s eyes

(Pop Pop) we cop Glocks and laugh when we hear yo Mama’s cries

Ain’t no need to dramatize nobody could change me

Fuck tulips, your ass pickin’ flowers you’ll be pushin’ up daisies

I'm not Gotti, I'm all for thriving in silence

Cause if you not, your life will flash through your eyelids

Come on

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2]

I got my revenge, sold my soul to the devil for riches

My murder game crazy, but on another level for snitches

Ya’ll looking round like the Konami Code

Up, Up, down, down, left, right, left, right, lookin’ for my pot of gold

While ya’ll dealing with Drama Hoes, I'm smoking up Ganja tho

Couture has opulence minus the blood drops on my Mobster clothes

Wankstas horrifically two stepping with they lobster toes

Got beef and I will bury the hatchet like Geronimo

My life will always be blast with the mac first

Or you’ll end up in the back of a black hearse

You wanna get the scoop then come by the Ben and Jerry’s

I’ll leave you dead and buried, more black tuxes around then when you were gettin’ married

My men are scary, trained killers, armed psychopaths

We roll deep, and we don’t follow the righteous path

In order to make the presidents, you need to be tight at math

And when your homies betray you, you need to entice your wrath

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3]

The hustler's life is lonely, everyone's out to get you

Dealing with all these traitor haters and loathing that they will disrespect too

This shit let me live out my dreams, I'm making it to the top

This shit let me spend out my cream, I just hope that I don't drop

They tell me, keep your friends close but your enemies closer

But they’ll both take you down in the drop of a hat, for some chocha

Just look what happened with Sosa, he sent squads to storm his buildin’

Just because he wouldn’t take the life of innocent children

Al Capone got sent into jail for tax evasion, it’s that amazing

Billion dollar empire, deal with cops that harass and chase us

We were born from the shit that was forced upon us

We just made the moves to better our lives that’s coursed and dishonest

Now I’m forced to demolish, anyone obstructing our path

I refuse to go down in a blaze without the final laugh

It’s like seeing through Judas’s Lies

Betrayal through Freddy Kruger’s eyes

Horrendous dreams of pulling out Rugers and shootin' through stupid guys

I have no other options, calculate moves and wait til’ all the losers die

It’s either Doe or Die or Suicide

You decide, mothafucka

[Hook]