4:20

Lyrics

Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 Roll, roll, roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 Yeah, fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a killing
 Call the po-po, oh n***** is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling
 N***** no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though
 Good p**** put a hump in my back like Quasimoto
 Hah, my sex ain't h*** 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 s**** out
 Put hands on these n*****, then put the roach out
 Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good
 Man, this Tarzan s*** in the woods, my s*** is hood, b****
 That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies
 Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bulls***
 Real s***, money come first, and even worse
 You need all your toes and fingers to count up what I'm worth, t****
 So when I blow a smoke cloud in your face, just take a hint
 D****, you crowding my space, it's Mr. Meth, pa
 It's 4: 20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
 No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
 No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
 4: 20 mean you either roll up or roll out
 Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 So on and so on, I flow on, power to our people
 Get your s**** on and I'm so gone, off, that s*** d*****
 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 n****, Tical deliver
 or crook, lots of a**** 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 n***** is p****, so is the d*** that sent you
 RZA, we done it again, Co-D occasion
 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
 It's 4: 20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
 No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
 No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
 4: 20 mean you either roll up or roll out
 It's 4: 20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
 No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
 No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
 4: 20 mean you either roll up or roll out
 Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
 The rap game won't like me
 You can tell that a n**** is shiesty
 If I die, my second born'll be like me, slide d*** 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, you get clapped on
 B****** break the bone, like the joint, call you out your name
 Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame
 Go public, then, s*** 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 n***** don't shoot and tell
 We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell
 Roll that s***
 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, 'cause it's money on my mind
 And I'm moving like my life is on the line
 For the bulls***, I really got no time, a full clip
 Really gon' let ya n***** 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
 It's 4: 20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
 No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
 No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
 4: 20 mean you either roll up or roll out
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:34
Key
1
Tempo
162 BPM

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