lirik lagu zoetic - cul-de-sac
[intro:jers]
zoetic’s gunna k!ll this one…
[verse:zoetic]
only trust a few friends, try to make a tight circle, cause a secret they can keep boy
no rest for the wicked gotta always watch my back i hold my pistol when i sleep boy
these rocks on my neck be like the asteroid belt, black diamonds ain’t cheap boy
beef in the pot
just to thicken the plot
anonymous tip to the cops
cause they heard gunshots
i was in the trap spot, cookin’ up the rocks
throw the bread on the ground watchin’ all the birds flock
ridin’ round in the whip, nothin’ is stock
tints on the window all eyes on me like pac
ballin out like i’m chris paul, clippers guard
you a p-ssy when you rap, needa get yourself some snicker bars
but as for me, i be comin’ up wit wicked bars
throwin’ fire like a wizard runnin’ on this jawn wall
zac of all trades the young hit maker
take more shots than kobe from the lakers gettin’ paper
if you a fiend then hit me cause i got what you need
but don’t trip cause i’m strapped wit that rocket yao mean
beastin’ like spike, on the beat i’m like a wolverine
freeze the fluid in both knees, d rose on the scene
bust the rondo cause you know its all about the f-ckin’ green
att-tude lebron james, imma go and carry the team!
yup!
theres nothin’ you can say boy
couldn’t k!ll me wit any kind of gun that you spray boy
turn yo pockets into bunny ears, i’m like a playboy
im the master you my dogs, i tell them b-tches stay boy
now go fetch it, gimme paw, sit down
actin reckless, chainsaws, sit down!
when i touch ground i greet it wit a fist pound
fifths round, buy the whole bar a couple rounds
f you comin’ wit that yak! i hit ya misses wit them clip rounds
lookin’ at you laughin’ who’s the m-th-f-ckin’ b-tch now?!
three mixtapes bodied i deserve a f-ckin’ trips crown
why you mad? cause i’m buzzin’ and i got that mixed sound
say you keep movin’ forward, my -ss, you in a standstill
all you sh-t you talkin’ get you found in a landfill
deaf to the haters im swingin’ like matt hamill
give em a toe tag to match his nike sandals
no b-tton on me bruh i serious never can chill
have a black b-tch drown you in the tank like landfill
throw you in a dumpster
leave ya body wit punctures
let the chopper bring the thunder
i bet one’ll do a number
on ya arm, leg leg, arm, dental, arteries and torso
spell it out, i want alladat, hang you by a cord so
i don’t f-ck wit you a little, minuscule, or even morsel
black magic wit the pot, ingestin’ souls till i’m immortal
cannons blast, barrels flash, come and take a f-ckin’ photo
comin’ for ya stash
stuff ya body in the dash
like a car collision crash
in the dead end like a f-ckin’ cul-de-sac
real rap
gun charge, still strapped
actin g-ssed cause these trap boys rappin’ all about the crack?
we ain’t havin’ none of that, na!
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