Gabe 'Nandez - Zii Lyrics


This is what it is, if you ain’t know, i’m about to show you the biz
Foes in the grid, close, so i lay low like a squid
Stand on the bridge, angle the salmon in ridge
Never put hands on it you will get strangled in bibs
Scandalous mans can’t handle the kid

You know who be slanging the rap
Banging the cannons to mangle the trap
Scanning the map with the scout-e-r
Land on the track with the route re-drawn
Feeling the shell-shock
Need bars like i’m a villain in cell blocks
Warning the warden is here
Foreman he’s ominous on to your fears

They rule imbuing the views improving the news with the tools thats moving the mules towards shit
Human abuse, using the ruse and screwing the grooves in contortion
Pools of the red, rum
Dude I left clues in the shed, run
Usually used to be voice
Foolery moving infusing the noise
They be hearing us villainous interferences drilling us in the mental embezzlement disappearing us
Speed in the drift, leaving the rift as i lean with the fifth
Keys in the grip, scheming i seen ’em enlist
Screaming i’m screening the demons in mist
Steam intervene in the sleep
Dreaming of being a heathenous sheep
Creeping in packs like wolves
Fall back cause you can’t tackle the bull
And you can’t haggle my wool
How you gon’ ash in my glass when it’s full?
I’ll figure i’ll last in the end
Depends wherever the bent passages send
Fuck ball my dunk tall in all games
On aim like Bron James who want game son?

It’s G on the beat
Sleep, deep, deep, deep
Sleep, when i put sheets on the beat go to sleep
Ceiling it creeps, deep, deep, deep sleep
Sleep, when i put sheets on the beat go to sleep

Passing ’em out to the blind
Samples of sand by the hand in disguise
Brambles of speech from the caverns the meek
Shall inherit whatever merit they can in the streets
If the mind is a thing of it’s own
Each to whatever fate laid in the stone
Shouldn’t he be clean in the booth?
I don’t know homie you believe in the youth?
Spoof the illusion of order in truth by the root of the cause
Took me a minute to think of the limits restricting the image of proof to the law

More than relaxed
Balancing all of the chores in a stack
Foreigner rap
Call him Snorlax when he scoring the naps
Bombing the song, till the shit done, then i gotta peace, out
Morning it comes, more than the sun, show you what the sleep ’bout


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