Rza - 4:20 lyrics

[Intro: RZA (Method Man)] Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it (roll it up n***as) Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it (4:20, y'all, it's time, it's time) Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it (it's been a long time for this man n***as been sleeping on the kid, man, everybody got some sideway sh** to say) Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it (Carlo! Know what I'm saying, man? Yeah) [Method Man] Fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a k**ing Call the po-po, oh n***as is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling n***as no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though Good p**y put a hump in my back like Quasimoto Hah, my s** ain't h*mo, 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 n***as, then put the roach out Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good Man, this Tarzan sh** in the woods, my sh** is hood, b**h That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bullsh** 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 [Hook: Carlton Fisk] It's 4:20, roll up, n***a getting smo-ked out No seeds, California weed have you choked out No doubt, roll up, which rims spoked out 4:20 mean either you roll up or roll out [RZA] Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it Roll that sh**, light that sh**, smoke it [Method Man] 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 on, 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***a, Tical deliver Hook or crook, lots of a**es to kick, wish I had a bigger foot Yeah, taking it there, hating who care Y'all stay out my mental, I got k**as waiting in here To get you, as I sharpen my pencils, tear apart instrumentals f** it, y'all n***as is p**y, so is the dick that sent you RZA, we done it again, Co-D occa**ion 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 [Hook] - 2X [Streetlife] The rap game won't like me You can tell that a n***a 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 k** From the Hill, never ran, never will Attitude, like, f** you still, I see you missing the point This is not a rap song, 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, sh** 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***as don't shoot & tell We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell [Carlton Fisk] 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 bullsh**, I really got no time, a full clip Really gon' let ya n***as 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 [Hook]