In "shiro" by bleood, the rush of flexing money, clothes, and sexual conquest masks a deeper emptiness. The repeated celebration of colorful hair and designer fits sits against confessions that medicine is the only thing that makes them smile and that lies make them want to cry. The image of playing with a heart like a fiddle turns intimacy into a game, while the black samurai line suggests a guarded, combative stance toward anyone who gets close. Beneath the bravado, the song circles a loneliness where status and pleasure never quite fill the ache.
shiro Lyrics by bleood
Holy shit
They say, “Keep workin’ with yrsci”
Hell yeah, that’s my lil’ brodie
Holy shit
H-h-holy—
Two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
T-told my mama, “Got a mission”
Told surgery we finna get up
Push it in her guts like sticky piston
We play with her heart like a fiddle
This ho tryna kiss up on me, ain’t no mistletoe
T-t-two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch (Woo, woo)
Two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
Two rolls for the fit, hun (Woo, woo)
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
Two rolls for the fit, hun
T-two rolls for the fit, hun
T-two rolls— two rolls— two rolls for the— (Woo)
Black samurai, look me in my eyes, tell me, baby, do you want it?
Can’t stand the lies, always wanna cry, a few kitties in my closet
Whisper in the night, they gossip
Walk in Balenci’, gotta cop it
Drip make Poseidon wanna faucet
I got 100K in my closet
Crushin’ on you, baby, know you see the signs
Pop out with a stick, he streak like Pennywise
Halloween make her scream, she open wide
Medicine the only thing that make me smile
Rihanna, work for this shit since a child
You don’t wanna put that work in, run that mile
Got a white shooter, nigga look like Harry Styles
Okay
Okay
Two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
T-told my mama, “Got a mission”
Told surgery we finna get up
Push it in her guts like sticky piston
We play with her heart like a fiddle
This ho tryna kiss up on me, ain’t no mistletoe
T-t-two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch (Woo, woo)
Two rolls for the fit, hun
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
Two rolls for the fit, hun (Woo, woo)
Hair all types of colors, Shiro, bitch
Two rolls for the fit, hun
T-two rolls for the fit, hun
T-two rolls— two rolls— two rolls for the— (Woo)
How many hoes wanna fuck in this Rover?
If she old enough, I’m gon’ fuck your daughter
G17 with a strobe light attached
Dior Hedi Slimane when I pop out
Heavy metal, we gon’ rock out
Heavy metal, we gon’ rock out
I’m hokage, respect when I pop out
Hit ’em with heavy metal and they opt out
Hit ’em with chidori, nigga, like Kakashi
I just want more brain like a zombie
I just want more green, bitch, wasabi
Pockets can’t get lean, I get more green
Issei Hyoudoe, hella hoes on me
I just be laid back in them parties
But I still keep a clanker up on me
You not totin’ clanker, you phony
Okay
Yeah, ah, ah, yeah
Yeah, ah, ah, yeah
Yeah, ah, ah, yeah
Hahaha, yeah
