| Let my coedine settle, and have a toast one time
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| Multiplications on my digits, come up over some time
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| 3−57 in my spine, they can’t hold me like Kobe Bryant
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| Powered up, popping tulips and clovers and stop signs
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| Taylor made, Gucci looking like a million bucks
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| Neck full of gold baggets, and trillion cuts
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| I reside on cuts, cause having money is a must
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| Give me the issue or get touched, the scuffling up
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| Fuck with the raw like a cut, cause I hit too hard
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| Radio stations don’t play, cause I spit too hard
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| I know they hate me everyday, and I ain’t quit so far
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| But if you cross the line, AK is gone hit your car
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| Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the throwdest of them all
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| Cause you know my name, it’s Z-Ro the Crooked
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| Z-Ro the Mo City Don, it ain’t over it just begun
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| Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the throwdest of them all
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| Cause you know my name, it’s Z-Ro represent the third coast
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| Let my codeine settle, and have a toast
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| I’m a guerilla that’s after the scrilla, I cock glocks
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| I’m the top knotch, body armored like Shaq done blocked shots
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| Dropping cops cause they crooked, I’m the law now
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| Posted on the corner, selling raw now
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| Looking for them people, keep an open eye
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| And if I see the jackers, never hesitate I gotta open fire
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| Active like a live wire, retalliation is a must
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| Rock and buy these bezzels, and then I bust
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| Geniva watch, telling me it’s time to ball
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| Get in the line till I make it to the front, and then it’s time to fall
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| But if I ever fall off, just fall back behind the scene
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| Take seven, catch me up in sitcoms and big screens
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| When I roll, I roll one deep
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| I never stop wrecking, these H-Town streets
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| And ain’t nobody holding me down I’m a roll, I’m rolling
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| If you didn’t know Southside still holding, folding
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| Big lemon faces, got real money cause I catch cases
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| Sipping on skeet tastes, and I’ma lean in private or public places
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| Milicated refreshness, keep my mind at ease
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| Trying to reach another level, keep me climbing trees
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| Coming smoke out my nose, bald faded minus before
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| Keep it gangsta, got groupie hoes striking a pose
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| But see they ain’t getting chose, or catch me tipping my dob
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| I need a independent thug chick, launder money and drug shit
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| I’m the boss hog, ain’t nobody hogging me over harder
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| Soft then I’m off, in the funk in my roller |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mirror Mirror, artist - Z-Ro. Album song Underground Railroad - Volume 3 : Paper Stacks Hulled, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп