[Part I]
[Intro: Slikadaice]
Slikada-Slikadaice!
Hit 'em up, Danny
[Verse: Slikadaice]
Hop in the whip, I'm finna drift, I got the hit stick (Hit stick)
Fuckin' ya bitch, I'm in, I slip markings like lipstick (Lipstick)
And I got the drip, won't drop shit, won't conceal it
Unzip the zip, come take a whiff, I need to seal it
Done got the block boofin', we got the Glocks shootin'
Support the Glock movement, the way the Glock movin'
I bet the cops losin', fuck a cop cruisin'
Fuck a opp, who this? (Who this?) Fuck a opp, who this? (Who this?)
I'm finna- I'm finna fuck it up (Fuck it up)
I'm finna fuck it up, just finna run it up, run it up, jet lag comin' up
She finna blow on my dick, no bubblegum, fuck, then I'm one and done (Mm-mm)
Fuck, then one and done (Mm-mm), fuck her, then one and done
Feel like I'm crawling through the shards, my broken glass house
Don't need help sellin', I don't need a trap house
If COVID disappеar, I'm still gon' have my mask down
A 7.62, that's a fast round
Like a 2017 Camaro, goin' fast now
Don't wrap my jimmy for some brain, Likе Neutron; I'ma blast now
I just took his money from his hand, yeah, I'ma cash out
He tried to scam, I say his addy, he wanna back out
And fuck the fame, they say my name, the haters finna pass out
She ride no horse, fake Polo (Uh), all big dawgs; no todo (No)
Fuck all the hate, y'all so-so (So-so), they bite my flow like Rolo's
That's good to know like JoJo, stomp 'em out with boots, no Go-Go
I was hurtin' at a time, I had sold bowls, now I'm on that grind with homegrown
I got all this pressure, go smoke, I'm on a different texture, fro-yo
I ain't attached to your love, no-no-no, destroy the ring, fuck Frodo
[Outro: Slikadaice]
You done lost your mind, I'll keep it, don't play about my dawgs like Leland
Or I'm having you sing like The Weeknd (Uh), uh-uh
You done lost your mind, I'll keep it, don't play about my dawgs like Leland
Or I'm having you sing like The Weeknd (Uh), uh-uh (Ooh)
[Part II]
[Verse 1: Slikadaice]
Motherfucker wanna talk all about that molly
Do you wanna cop? Come on, cop, no "prolly"
I got homies mixin' up the drink feelin' jolly (Ranch)
Got they nose snotty, choppin' like karate (Ha-ha)
Autotune all on my lyrics, feel like Roddy (Ricch)
You ain't stoppin' none of my shots like I'm Scotty (Yep)
I done got out some' to eat, that's calamari
I just fucked a bitch that's bad, I call her "Harley"
I just fuck her and I dip, I call her hardly
I call her "Harley"
But I call her hardly
And I'm war ready, ain't nun' more deadly
Just like a score from Messi, Slikadaice; who can be more petty?
That is a rhetorical question, you can be dead in a morgue to heaven
You and ya gang some whores, not steppin'
[Pre-Chorus: Slikadaice]
Freestyle shit 'round 4:11, freestyle shit 'round 4:11, freestyle shit 'round 4:11
4:11, freestyle shit 'round 4:11
4:11, freestyle shit 'round 4:11
4:11, freestyle shit, freestyle shit 'round 4:11
[Chorus: Slikadaice & T3AR]
4:11. 4:11
4-4:11
4:11, 4:11
4-4:11 (Yeah, yeah)
[Verse 2: T3AR]
Bitch, it's 4:11, but it's really 10:09 (Yeah)
If that bitch, he wanna slide right, he gon' fuckin' die (Yeah)
Yeah, that bitch; he wanna kill me, goin' wit' a fight (Yeah, what?)
And ain't no bitch gon' slide up on me, he gon' pay the price (Gang, gang)
Yeah, that boy; he run a circle 'round this choppa (Yeah, ah)
Bitch, I'm goin' to the top, no helicopter (Ah, yeah)
Ri-rich chain, all you bitches bitch made (Fah, fah-fah)
Tell me how the fuck you think you cool? Like, bitch, you can't hang (On God)
Bitches, all you bitches bitches (Ha-ha-ha)
I been hangin' 'round wit' chop-chop stick (Fah-fah)
And I don't really give a fuck about you snitches (No, sir)
You a fuckboy, so don't try to rock wit' me (Yeah, yeah)
Had to run it back, huh, the first one looked like ass
But I ain't really give a shit, 'cause now I'm goin' gas (On my ma)
Bitch, I'm smokin' gas (Yeah), bitch, I'm smokin' grass
Me and Slik-Slik-Slikadaice, bitch, we going in (Yeah, yeah, on God)
[Verse 3: Slikadaice]
We got AKs, shit that make yo' face hang
Rearrange, we really deranged
I know real bloods, ain't talkin' no fake stain
Feelin' real good, smoke kush while my nuts hang
I want a real fuck, fuck what the other bitch say
The one, I'm the uno, they following my culo
I gotta- I gotta-
I gotta let the tool blow, I gotta let the tool blow
[Refrain: Slikadaice]
Blow, oh, oh, blow, oh, oh
Blow, oh, oh, oh-oh-oh-oh
[Verse 4: Slikadaice]
Really, I'm feeling aggressive now, when I shoot; I don't miss like I'm Stephen now
Baby, now, why you down? Why you lonely?
I got pounds, I got pounds of that OG
I got pounds, I got pounds when I'm smoking
We got rounds, we got rounds for your whole team
I'ma "grrt," I'ma "grrt," wit' the .40
Unloaded, reload it
His body at the top, uh, like a floatie
[Bridge: Slikadaice & Diizii]
Huh (Huh)
Huh (Huh, ha-ha-ha!)
Huh (Huh)
Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh (Uh-huh)
4:11 (4:11)
4:11 (4:11)
4:11 (4:11)
[Verse 5: Slikadaice & Diizii]
I got Gucci, Fendi, Louis, what I'm reppin', yeah (Yeah!)
Saint Laurent all on the dresser next to fifty racks (Fifty)
And shout-out Fredo Bang (Bang! Bang! Bang!)
Inspiration to my music, swear that I won't fade away (Fade)
They was blockin' all my paths and now I made a way
[Verse 6: Diizii]
She want the dick, she tell me, "please" (Please, please, please)
Can't fold the hundreds, I got blue cheese (Blue cheese)
You tweakin' off the eddies, like you new to these?
She say, "you got a girl?" Like, "who, me? I don't" (What?)
Bitch, it's 4:11, but it's really 9:19 (Uh, uh)
The way your girl starin' , yeah, she really like- like me (Ha-ha-ha-ha)
Bitch, it's 4:11, but it's really 9:20 (Tuh, ha)
Gat's horny, like how many? I got many (Phew)
She don't need the vibrator, 'cause bitch, I got the bass
Put the toolie to his face, huh, he done caught a case
Like all these bitches trippin', so tie yo' fuckin' lace
I shoot him then I hide the body without a trace
Somebody else there, shoot 'em and it sounds like-
Then I fucked his bitch after, and it sound like- (Yeah, you like that?)
Slik', Diiz', 'T3AR, muh'fucker, it's 4:11
I just sent that bitch to get rubbers from 7-Eleven
[Chorus: Diizii]
Huh, huh, 4:11, huh
4:11
4:11
Muh'fucker, it's 4:11
[Outro: Diizii]
Turn it off. that way shit way too long, on God
