Blicky

[Intro]
Pass Da Blic did it again

(Verse 1)
Hop out the whip like a demon unleashed,
Drum got a kick, make the whole block screech.
Ops wanna talk, but they don’t want beef,
Catch me in the field where the lions don’t sleep.

Slide through quick like I’m ghostin’ the scene,
Mask on tight, only thing seen green.
Runnin’ up plays while they stuck in between,
Say it with your chest, don’t mumble the scheme.

(Hook)
Big stepper, I move with a choppa,
Whole team eat, break bread like pasta.
Talk slick, boy? Better pray to your Father,
Came from the mud, now I drip like water.

Pop off quick, no time for the drama,
Put him in the air, no need for a comma.
Heart ice cold, can’t melt this lava,
They don’t want smoke — they just want karma.

(Verse 2)
Streets talk heavy but they move like mice,
Tryna play God, better roll that dice.
No cap rap — I ain’t gotta say it twice,
Grew up where the pain turn boys to ice.

Money on my mind, and my soul stay clean,
Still keep a blade where the fake can’t be seen.
Eyes wide open, I don’t sleep in dreams,
I just grind in the dark till I burst through seams.

(Hook)
Big stepper, I move with a choppa,
Whole team eat, break bread like pasta.
Talk slick, boy? Better pray to your Father,
Came from the mud, now I drip like water.

Pop off quick, no time for the drama,
Put him in the air, no need for a comma.
Heart ice cold, can’t melt this lava,
They don’t want smoke — they just want karma.
 
[Bridge] They Love Pass Da Blic

[Verse 3]

Ayy, run up, I flash like I’m takin’ a pic,
Glock got a kick, make him dance like a Tik.
Slide on his block, we don’t talk, we just blitz,
Scope on the top, see it clear when it hit.

Boom! Lay him down like a mat in the gym,
No mask on, they know it’s him.
Told bro chill, but he still gon’ spin,
Two drums deep, we don’t play violin.

Whip got tint like I’m movin’ in stealth,
Don’t need help, do the dirt by myself.
Clip so long, might fold off the belt,
Catch one shot, now he beggin’ for health.

Ayy, I ain’t the one they should play with,
Made men mad ‘cause they basic.
Poppin’ off quick like the stick got a facelift,
Run up on who? Boy, face it —

I’m not the type you can press or finesse,
Came from the bottom with heat in my chest.
Shoot like I’m Curry, but aim at the neck,
If I up it, I bust it — I don’t do threats.


[Outro]
Hahahahaa

rap, trap, hip hop, male