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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » M » Method Man
4_20 - текст песни



4_20


Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (roll it up niggaz)


Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (4:20, y'all, it's time, it's time)


Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (it's been a long time for this man


Niggaz been sleeping on the kid, man, everybody got some sideway shit to say)


Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it (Carlo! Know what I'm saying, man? Yeah)








Fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a killing


Call the po-po, oh niggaz is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling


Niggaz no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though


Good pussy put a hump in my back like Quasimoto


Hah, my sex ain't homo, season vet, hold the adobo


Got rappers on that low carb diet, y'all can't get no dough


I keep a low pro, file, excuse me as I get smoked out


Put hands on these niggaz, then put the roach out


Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good


Man, this Tarzan shit in the woods, my shit is hood, bitch


That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies


Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bullshit


Real spit, money come first, and even worse


You need all your toes & fingers to count up what I'm worth, trick


So when I blow a smoke cloud in your face, just take a hint


Dick, you crowding my space, it's Mr. Meth, pa








It's 4:20, roll up, nigga getting smo-ked out


No seeds, California weed have you choked out


No doubt, roll up, which rims spoked out


4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out








Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it


Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it








So on and so on, I flow on


Power to our people, get your smoke on


And I'm so gone, off, that sour diesel


Hard to hold on, but hold on, it's like I'm Pretty Toney


With that robe, got terrorist shook, because I'm so bomb


The hood, put, me in position, I'm in the kitchen


With that cook book, the service I'm giving, birds they vision


Not a good look, told ya my nigga, Tical deliver


Hook or crook, lots of asses to kick, wish I had a bigger foot


Yeah, taking it there, hating who care


Y'all stay out my mental, I got killas waiting in here


To get you, as I sharpen my pencils, tear apart instrumentals


Fuck it, y'all niggaz is pussy, so is the dick that sent you


RZA, we done it again, Co-D occassion


Here's to short skirts and Ol' Dirt McGirt, okay, then


Let's get it popping, like it ain't nothing to get it popping


The big and rotten's the city, too good to be forgotten














The rap game won't like me


You can tell that a nigga is shiesty


If I die, my second born'll be like me


Slide dick to your wifey


Never know your baby boy just might be


Quick to rob a jack, he's so icey, stay dressed to kill


From the Hill, never ran, never will


Attitude, like, fuck you still, I see you missing the point


This is not a rap song (Texts of songs ), you get clapped on


Bullets break the bone, like the joint, call you out your name


Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame


Go public, then, shit on your fame, you overlooking the fact


Where you from, is where we at


And y'all don't want no, parts, in that that


Caught your verse for sale, but real niggaz don't shoot & tell


We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell








The inner outer state, bi-coastal smoker


Inhale, Cali piff with a swift of glaucoma


Black jeans, black Timbs, black Benz roaster


Smoke rise, out the sun roof when I roll up


Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano


Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle


And pour some out, moment of silence, then I swallow


I'm still alive, and still the sun'll come out tomorrow


Shine shine shine, and grind, cuz it's money on my mind


And I'm moving like my life is on the line


For the bullshit, I really got no time, a full clip


Really gon' let ya niggaz know what's on my mind


When ya getting out of line, have them choppers lit up


You won't need a camera phone to get the picture


Chalk down, tape around, body bag zipped up


Carlo Verrazano, you can call me mister



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