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lirik lagu 4dagz – lord sizzle

hold up a liquor store like, “what up?”
9/11 at 7-eleven, blow up
go and get me some st–ze, k!ll me a bee
got pink play-doh on me
you know this for the g’s
but, hold up a liquor store like, “what up?”
9/11 at 7-eleven, blow up
go and get me some cream, hop out the bim’
got steam still on my sh-t
you know this for the g’s

did it all in some basketball shorts like shaq
got me wild off the juju like i was tak
midnight cowboy, the wood, the east like i’m dak
running routes to my crib, like, “who was that?”
lulu, i’m lonely pup, got shrapnel sh-t in my gut
chop chop, choppers in dusk, so chop, chop if you must
i’m gonna rush my vessel out to the curb
grab my cross, close my eyes
reflect a bit ‘fore i bust
always told that i am what i become
my destination: the dirt
i sp-wn infant in slums
i’m infamous with the infinites
if i may interrupt: my fable don’t end like this
i’ll give this b-tch some more c-m
i’m lipping off, hitting l!cks
with my mystery still unsolved
there’s symmetry to this sh-t
but this monkey can still evolve, yup
you can go and tell ltg that
keep saying “harambe,” cuck, i will be that
but that’s my god gene showing up
sipping pinot on an island with lakota in my huf
feeling on my totem, i don’t even need to bluff
you can block it all you want, but that keyboard ain’t enough
aye, and this is for the g’s in the projects
clocking in up at the blocktop ‘tween the church’s and the target
save the 40 for the cut up
bring the block up to your making
play your album for the pavement
palm your zipper, grip your nuts up (nuts up)

blank stares, tables turn
turn tables, stares blank
what a lovely contradiction
follow me up to the bank [x2]

[hook]

red and blue collide, tell me how blood’s born
muddy palms derive, depress the buds torn
port a seed, sabbatical for my play-doh
the salmon controller, dualshock therapy for my scorn (word)
corn and chicken to worship over, what for?
that planet ain’t even flat, but i’m honestly getting bored
chatterboxing ’bout who is on whose side
i’m in the middle reclined
while you’re serving, i’m keeping score
zero to love, i’m cereal with the tricks
i’m bereal to my bloods, i’m serious to my crips
delirious when i study, i’m steadying trying to dip
’cause the fence is digging quite deep in my leg
blood on my hips
i’m fudd with the shotty
roasting toyo tires, torching my tortoise new body
just contort in the trunk and eat up the duct
touting your talented balance
pouting and planning while sobbing
slopping on silver
now slip the green like wasabi
leave your sh-t all foggy like narukami
just me and pickle gon’ hold up a junes with loaded tommies
getting topped off by a couple mamis from the dotty
talking potty to my lobe and l!ck a little ’til i’m spotted
now this is for the dotted, plotted g’s in the projects
stats bigger than the g’s in the nba or college
aye, looking for a little broccoli in their pocket
but the bacon eats back and that sh-t ain’t worth the profit

[bridge]

[hook]

- lord sizzle

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