Zoetic - Cul-De-Sac lyrics

Published

0 139 0

Zoetic - Cul-De-Sac lyrics

[Intro:JerS] Zoetic's gunna k** 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**y 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**in' green Attitude Lebron James, imma go and carry the team! Yup! Theres nothin' you can say boy Couldn't k** 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**hes 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 muthaf**in' b**h now?! Three mixtapes bodied i deserve a f**in' trips crown Why you mad? Cause i'm buzzin' and i got that mixed sound Say you keep movin' forward, my a**, you in a standstill All you sh** 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 bu*ton on me bruh i serious never can chill Have a black b**h 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** 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**in' photo Comin' for ya stash Stuff ya body in the dash Like a car collision crash In the dead end like a f**in' cul-de-sac Real rap Gun charge, still strapped Actin ga**ed cause these trap boys rappin' all about the crack? We ain't havin' none of that, NA!