Flatbush Zombies - Bounce lyrics

Published

0 1992 0

Flatbush Zombies - Bounce lyrics

[Produced by: Erick Arc Elliott] Wylin wylin Wylin wylin huh Wylin wylin huh [Verse 1: Meechy Darko] YSL pants with the zippers, yikes Met her this evenin' already hit it, twice Tag on your soul everybody got a price Acid, acid, change yo' life Bape if she hip, Saint Laurent if she bougie I'm faded like Boosie She call me Meechy over, I slide in that coochie Nosedive in that coochie My dick is big, it should be wearin' a Coogi Imma need some friends Tie-dyed my lifestyle Even bleached the pants Next week Japan Thom Browne bubble lens, I need the tint Flatbush, Brooklyn, from the County of Kings Run up on me like I'm some hippie n***a And die under the knife, Joan Rivers Ooh, damn, that punchline delivers Hold up wait a minute, moment of silence Hm, f** it Let's get back to wylin' Blood on your Timbs, Shoot Shoot Blood at your limbs, tuh tuh Split at your rims Ambidexterity, I shoot with two hands Even got blood on your friends I think I just flooded the Benz Damn it, baby, Meechy's at it again M-M-Murder, murder, murder Capital M with two gats in my hand [Verse 2: Zombie Juice] Everyday a n***a wake up, got to blaze a little chronic Thank the universe, a blessing, new day, a new dollar Middle finger to my n***as and my b**hes two times Representing for my n***as in the hood it's no ceiling Sellin', trappin' like a villain, cold Should've made a k**ing, go Finger played with it, yo n***a stay with it Hate a n***a, fade him quicker now Numb dum diddy dum I, I, I, I, I High like the sun Fetch a frequency, this ain't sh** to me She said she got a friend, then let my n***a beat Meech roll 'em, bust 'em, cannons, wooh Spliff long looking like a Manson I'm on acid feeling like the Hamptons She feeling freaky beat the p**y like a champion Young n***a but I'm still O.G Supreme Team like 1993 Triple 6 on my coffin, I dance with the devil Came back with a vengeance, Christ off the hinges I'm nice with the spit kid, twice as much vicious Psycho-active, I'm on a mission Electric KoolAde Make your decision You want it, I get you These n***as ain't right, they can't write they own sh** But they smile in your face, and they claim they the sh** But to me a disgrace Trying to keep steps ahead like we running a race Got an ounce to burn, got a trip to make Free my n***as lawd, made it right today Got an ounce to burn, got a trip to make [Verse 3: Erick Arc Elliott] Not a thug but n***as know how I keep mine Call her up or quick to throw up the peace sign Throw that p**y, let me hit it Girl, I got to get it Saying she got a feeling, she let a young n***a hit it Back and forth cause we smoke them seven grams Billboard sh** I don't expect you to understand My performance, dreams at 14 Now I hear them calling two to their seats Won't slip away this is serious business Voidin the mischief while spending these Benjamins Surrender potential p**y to me Brought to you by the ungrateful police Conscious keep telling me, beautiful melody Will exhibit if I trip on the L.S.D Nah, window for money and dro Some people think I spend money for show Spending show money Flip like aerobics Components will k** my opponents I sit on my throne, it's enormous Composed with the chorus My karma is good, dog, and don't need supportin' My b**h is so gorgeous, I cannot afford To spend time with her when chasin' these who*es Money, keep countin' She strip like Lance Mountains My pa**port is packed How I travel, astoundin' (Yeah) Thug Waffle did that Now we comin' back for the k**er contract Pull up on your pampers Three man army Address the b**h n***as in a song, call it Palm Trees Not a fan of you if you ain't ever hug my moms, b Not a fan of n***as that be talkin' where I'm gon' be Talk a lot of mess, leave you n***as out of pocket Don't talkin' to me less you talkin' bout a profit [Outro: Zombie Juice and Meechy Darko] Universe a blessing, a new day a new dollar Tag on your soul, everybody got a price Acid, acid change yo' life