Method Man, Streetlife, RZA, Carlton Fisk - 4:20 lyrics

Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
(roll it up niggas)
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
(4: 20, y'all, it's time, it's time)
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
(it's been a long time for this man
Niggas been sleeping on the kid, man
Everybody got some sideway shit to say)
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
(Carlo! Know what I'm saying, man? yeah)

Fast or slow mo, oh no
Meth done made a killing
Call the po-po, oh niggas is squealing, oh
Y'all ain't feeling
Niggas no more, the bigger they are
Harder they go though
Good pussy put a hump in
My back like Quasimoto
Hah, my sex ain't homo, 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 niggas
Then put the roach out
Go head, I'm wishing you would
Ask if it's good
Man, does Tarzan shit in the
Woods, my shit is hood, bitch
That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies
Straight out the pull-pit
It's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bullshit
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

It's 4: 20, roll up
Nigga 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

Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it
Roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it

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 nigga
Tical deliver
Hook or crook, lots of asses 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 niggas is pussy
So is the dick that sent you
RZA, we done it again, Co-D occassion
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

The rap game won't like me
You can tell that a nigga 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 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
Bullets break the bone, like the joint
Call you out your name
Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame
Go public, then, shit 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 niggas don't shoot & tell
We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell

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 bullshit, I really got no time
A full clip really gon' let ya niggas 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