Shiraz – Song and Lyrics by Action Bronson

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Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Shiraz’ by Action Bronson. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Action Bronson or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

We’ve been the best since I stepped in
Bring a hooker to the muthafuckin Jets Inn
In the sack, break her back like a Redskin
Need the dough like I’m trying to get the bread thin
Tree to make the head spin
Every season play the corner like I’m Revis
Light Caesar, heavy bearded like I’m Jesus
New York City, Queens borough be the backdrop
I bring it back to all the benches, need a blacktop
Big things, see me moving like a Sasquatch
Money, I’m in pursuit, cuchillo inside the boot
Bitches are on display, give brain
Inside the coupe. Shift gears, that’s with the left
Which means I’m on the right, get paid
By any means, you hold it, say goodnight kid

Two fingers hold the potion when I’m smoking
Slow motion, snatch a snapper out the ocean
In my lungs go the drugs like the red chief
Red leaf lettuce blood money on the bench seat
12 courses laid up on the long table
Aged wine got me spinning like a dreidel
For fly women use a condom cause it’s fatal
Hazel eyed bitched always blazing up the basil
The red razor cut the features in your facial
Creep in Corona, bumping Fernando Villalona
Puffing cheeba in the street by the chimi corner
Tu ne tappa me, muthafuckas are sloppy
Captain of the rap, you talking to papi
Up in Niagara Falls, make your wifey suck a
Bag of balls, it’s sick, just like a Magic cough
Same person on camera or when the muthafuckin’ camera off
Hash straight from the desert, can knock
A camel off, Sheep straight out of school
Let the hammers off. Off the boat shit
Whole cliques roll thick, no shit
Piss drunk and they smoke sticks
Not a word of English but
They hold the four-fifths
Fila jumpsuit, sandals, the whole shit
Young kids walking around, got the Desi in hand
Going “Boom Shakalaka!” like it’s NBA Jam
Never speak to fuzz
Tap out the reefer, show him how
To use his sneakers, ’cause
Roasted peppers, sweet tomatoes, heirloom
We on the beach, fresh Ceviche
We in Cancun, fly girly curly
Hair is getting read through
We in the shower give me head: shampoo
Swimming trunk, shoe accentuate the ankle
Eyes blue, put the children’s money in the Banco
Giuseppe Franco, take the cash and tango
I’m straight stoned -sly, thank you
Bye, peace, one, f*ck you