Zen

[Chorus: Pusha T]

Is it them blings that make them watch us?

The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—

[Verse 1: Pusha T & Sandman]

Hands got the bubble touch, bike with the double-clutch

Two diamond jump ropes: My neck do the double-dutch

Give a fuck about such-and-such

On behalf of the Re-Up Gang, I’m saying, "'Nough’s enough"

Turn it, turn it—fire, burn it

Gram weight straight like a nigga just permed it

Pyrex and water, player—how I earns it

Lame rap niggas, I’m so not concerned with

On another level, my third bezel, my fourth gas pedal

Fifty-five on the back, I’m a daredevil

The course is paved, the watch is pavé

You niggas gotta love me, I'm something the Lord made (Yeah-ah, can-non)

[Verse 2: Sandman]

I got-gots to do it, do it

VVS, my jewelry

Don’t need no jury to find me guilty

I stay gaudy

Pockets bulky—how can y'all fault me?

Ghost-ride it—driver, what that mean?

You're small, welly, nigga fuck that beam

Us that team

Touch that cream, digital scale—what’s that scheme?

(It’s all real) Don't touch that thing (Fake!)

Niggas faces get flattened and clapped-in

Squad want action—Re-Run, What’s Happening?

Every episode, the Tec exposed, Gotti body

Tsunami mamis, that gotta be why they watching

[Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman]

Is it them blings that make them watch us?

The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—

Zen zen zen zen zen zen (Zen)

Zen zen zen (Zen), zen zen zen zen zen zen (You're getting money, say—)

Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen

Zen zen, zen zen zen zen-zen-zen-zen

[Verse 3: Ab-Liva]

Now, how that forearm glow on 'em

Feeling so grown on 'em

I pitch work, sort of like Nomo on 'em

Snow on 'em, cover my tracks, low on 'em

So on 'em—streets, I push blow on 'em

The car drop with the soft top like Bose on 'em

Rolls on 'em, go on 'em, I’m striking a pose on 'em

No opponent can come close, match tone on it

Flow on it, honed on it, I’m feeling at home on it

It’s Liva, the rider, the man—they hang clothes on 'em

With the belt, the matching shoes, the G-soles on 'em

I’m classic, the plastic got O's on 'em

I rolls on 'em, the self-murder doors close on 'em

[Verse 4: Malice]

Yeah, good gosh, a'mighty

All we do is cook raw, push cars like Whitey

Like a moth to a flame, it’s so inviting

To opposite sexes, the stones so precious

Still in the Rezzy, G4, or Lear

No diamond in that bezzy, I get grown-er every year

Pay me for that feature—that don't make it family

All is see is blackface and you singing "Mammy"

I’m from the old school, when the Gat was a jammy

Twin four-fifs: The resemblance is uncanny

I bust both in sync—y’all niggas hear me

Now that’s what I call "the big bang theory"

[Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman]

Is it them blings that make them watch us?

The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say—

Zen zen zen zen zen zen

Zen zen zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen (Getting money, say—)

Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen

Zen zen, zen zen zen z-z-zen