[Verse 1: Zombie Juice]
I been here, you been where?
Life ain't sweet, no beach chair
Arc choppin' samples, gotta clear air
Still hustle every day like there's no care
I pray everyday, too much sin
Niggas at the top, soon fallin'
Man, I got nothin' to lose
Probably be on front page bringin' up the old ways
Fuck your major corporations, the government, they rapists
Don't matter where you're from, grab your motherfuckin' gun
When they run up in your crib, spray 'em down like it's fun
And they don't give a fuck if we livin' in hell
As long as they can make money off our motherfuckin' tales
From Kanye to Kimmy, Chris Brown, Rihanna
They wanna see us lose, our relationship's our noose
When niggas in the hood ain't got no fuckin' shoes
Nah, we smarter, we gotta change the game
It's our fuckin world, it's time to make the claim
Bang, bang
[Verse 2: Bodega Bamz]
One hundred keep it, I live, die by my own hands
Somebody bodyin' me is not in my program
It's ironic that I called my coke Lohan
Spank a young nigga 'til he turn into a grown man
And I'm not a grown man, got nothin' to prove
Buck-fifty your pretty face, I got money to lose
I got bitches to choose from
And please, no hickeys bitch that's rule one
My baby mother wild, me and my ten boys pow-wow
At the round table, check your cell phones
40 cals, my Glock never on safety
Nigga never played me, nigga never robbed me
Bullet never grazed me, whassup ho?
I'ma give you what you need
Some hard dick and coke, I'ma put up in yo' asshole
It's ironic they want beef with the cash cow
I'm tryba get in this motherfucker and cash out
A couple bottles of brown water
When the sun up, papi pass out
Cold as ice, anty up when we mash out
Homie, that's real talk, raised on Baltic Ave
Now I walk the [?] walk, what's up, though? Yeah
[Interlude: Meechy Darko & Erick Arc Elliott]
I ain't walk nowhere, nigga
This nigga
You up now?
You rappin', nigga?
Nah
I'll rap, nigga
[Verse 3: Meechy Darko]
Posin' for photos
Pistol in hand, collar open like Han Solo
Who roll six grams, don't even pass, this one a dolo
Nine in yo' chest, nine in yo' spine, Tony Romo
My liquor dark, my bitches light, pussy's a homo
I'm from the ghetto where we recycle our paper plates
And everybody got a relative upstate
Nigga, I'm talkin' jail upstate, not a crib upstate
Hog-tying's tiring, rather use duct tape
Or I could fibre-wire them
Extended clips are my specialty, especially when aimed at enemies with benefits
Ain't got a license for my whip, or my weaponry
But fuckin' niggas still ride out for them presidents
But only for Franklin, Benjamin
Gun-butt ya, cut ya, I snuff ya with that snub nose
I'm robbin' every local deli for Marley and Fronto (Ayy)
My Zombie mami's poppin' molly, I just pop a tab
Open a bag of that maui wowie, roll it, take a drag
Cops in Impalas won't ever stop me, Zombies on yo' ass
Most of these niggas is carbon copies, Harlem get the cash
Word to Ohla and my nigga Papi, I like my head sloppy, bitch
[Outro]
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I'm gone
READ MORE ABOUT FLATBUSH ZOMBIES
