Lyrics for 4 AM by Wale :
[Intro – Wale]
Welcome to paradise
Paper planes, long flights

[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, n*ggas is gassed up
Tell them to keep it running, I’m keeping the grass cut
No snakes, royalty hating n*ggas don’t get no pus*y
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 n*ggas 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 f*ck y’all, so we f*ck y’all, we don’t love yall
Loud P.O.T. above y’all, patron at 4 am, f*ck the last call
The way your heard of that, the way yo heard of y’all

Thugging, Heartless and mean mugging
For when n*ggas don’t see their seeds till they see the judges
Dark side of town, baby mama blues
When drama ensues n*ggas Ndamukong Suh
All lying ass defensive ass boys
Why you knock that b*tch up if you can’t tend it out boy?
I’m attentive my opinion is monumental
I’m here forever, these other n*ggas scribble in pencil
Got indelible colors, only local they’re buzzing
I’m at Dulles with luggage fly straight to the money
And you don’t understand my slang my colloquial’s lovely
So they quote me and love me like I’m a poet or something
Ho I kick it, I punt it like Reggie Roby or something
Shady b*tches offend me, Reggie smokers disgust me
Make the least of you haters, make the most of your money
Have that consistent drive long as your motor’s running
I used to heat up mama house by opening ovens
Now mama see that sh*t on Oprah and know that it’s coming
That’s real sh*t, it’s bigger than rap
My n*gga Co-Bizzy Virginia is back
I light up my spliff take a sip of my yack
Thinking back of when the city weren’t thinking of rap
They weren’t thinking of Ralph, they weren’t giving a f*ck
Now everywhere I go they be giving it up
I seen it all from Barry Farms to Sursum Corda
They had that rock in Lincoln Park that’s word to Mike Shinoda
Shout out to captain Ginnny and free my n*gga Ricky
We always pray for polo, we miss you little Benny
We skip college, chase dollars and black pennies
Not in the kingdom of Zamunda but it’s mad semi’s
Where bad b*tches with bad intentions just act friendly
This where they love you then they hate you, go and ask Fenty
Yeah, go and ask Fenty
They love you then they hate you, go and ask Fenty
Go and ask Fenty, hating ass n*gga, sweeter than a simply
Who got the juice n*gga?
Juice n*gga
Juice n*gga
Work, work, work, work, work