Headstone Letra |
Artista: Flatbush Zombies
Letra de canción de música |
Headstone letra de Flatbush Zombies lyrics
| (Intro: Zombie Juice) |
| Victory, victory |
| Gold on my neck, Mr. T |
| Victory, victory |
| Zombie gang reppin' that NYC |
| Victory, victory |
| Ice round my neck like I'm Lil Weeze |
| We run this shit like a pair of cleats |
| It's hell on earth but this where I be |
| (Chorus: Meechy Darko) |
| Money over bitches on my headstone |
| Here lies young nigga gettin' paper |
| Never take a loss on my headstone |
| Only take a L when I'm smokin' it |
| Zombie gang three times on my headstone |
| Been thuggin', from the cradle to the grave |
| Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone |
| Too late, he already dead |
| (Bridge: Erick Arc Elliott) |
| Imagine when you're thirty thousand feet up what you think of? |
| Boy, I hated knowin' that my thoughts would turn to dreams |
| 'Cause I never knew I'd get my chance to link up |
| Boy, I tell you, all of this unusual to me |
| Swear I came from the bottom, Flatbush livin', walkin' dead on |
| But your favorite rapper's name up on a headstone |
| Biggie Big for the cheese and you're dead wrong |
| Propaganda set the standards in the terror dome |
| (Verse 1: Zombie Juice) |
| I hit it doggystyle, she throw it back |
| Yeah, I'm born to mack |
| It's dark and Hell is hot so leave me where I'm at |
| I'm livin' how I wanna, no reasonable doubt |
| It's clear to see, all eyez on me, 400 degrees |
| Who am I? Ruthless, eazy does it |
| The chronic smoke in public, hate it or love it |
| The underdogs, with liquid swords |
| It was written in my diary this art of war |
| I'm feelin' infamous, immortal with my technique |
| A revolutionary shinin', with diamond teeth |
| Young Don Cartagena, excuse my demeanor, this the glamour life |
| You still not a player, you ain't half as nice |
| I'm born again, life after death, I made the sacrifice |
| I'm supa dupa fly, Juicy keep them hypnotized |
| I said my name is Juice, AmeriKKKa's most |
| Ain't no half-steppin', see you at tha crossroads |
| (Chorus: Meechy Darko) |
| Put money over bitches on my headstone |
| Here lies young nigga gettin' paper |
| Never take a loss on my headstone |
| Only take an L when I'm smokin' it |
| Zombie gang three times on my headstone |
| Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave |
| Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone |
| Too late, he already dead |
| (Verse 2: Erick Arc Elliott) |
| It was written in the children's story, that life's a bitch |
| So what'cha want? Everyday I struggle with it |
| Only god can judge me slippin', I'm infinitely big pimpin' |
| Though the genesis, dead presidents, drop a gem on 'em |
| Hell on earth, these the last dayz, throw ya guns up |
| Get money, Quiet Storm, havin' suicidal thoughts |
| For the C.R.E.A.M, renegade |
| For the money, all the green is the lemonade |
| I'm a player on the late night tip, shorty triple six |
| She the prototype, Tip drill, kiss her fingertips |
| Resevoir Dogs, check the score, ignorant shit |
| Blackout, can I live? Hellrazor, still feel me |
| Kiss of death, and protect ya neck |
| Three dope boys in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz |
| Kiss of death, and protect ya neck, shame on a nigga |
| Three dope boys in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz |
| (Chorus: Meechy Darko) |
| Put money over bitches on my headstone |
| Here lies young nigga gettin' paper |
| Never take a loss on my headstone |
| Only take a L when I'm smokin' it |
| Zombie gang three times on my headstone |
| Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave |
| Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone |
| Too late, he already dead |
| (Verse 3: Meechy Darko) |
| Right now I'm on the edge, so don't push me |
| Troublesome since '96, you a shook one |
| Breath easy, know the ledge, I'm your pusha |
| What's that? I smell pussy |
| Let me count my guns, um |
| 5,4,3,2,1, run! |
| Hi, my name is Durt Cobain |
| Like a pimp, here I go 'til the next episode |
| Ain't a nann nigga this XXXplosive, beastcoast shit |
| Blat-blat, reloaded |
| Fuck them other niggas, ride or die for my niggas |
| Strictly 4 my niggas, survival of the fittest |
| Woop-woop! That's the sound of the police |
| I'm in deep cover, skrt skrt |
| Lean back, give me one more chance |
| They say Jesus walks and the Devil wear Prada |
| But I'm so, so deaf, God can't tell me nothing |
| Write this on my death certificate, I gave you power |
| 21 questions, like who shot ya? I shot ya! |
| Warning, watch them niggas flashin' lights papparazi |
| Two words, fu*kbitches, get money |
| Tonight's da night, guess who's back on my block |
| Rather unique, I lick a shot for Bucktown |
| This firearm, silencer on, that quiet storm |
|
T-O-N-Y, top of New York, with a pitchfork |
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