Flatbush Zombies - RedEye to Paris lyrics

[Intro] Cause y'all grew up watchin' Rambo and Commando and Cobra and Schwarzenegger, coincidently is now the governor of a state in America. So where does the social responsibility fall for Hollywood? Na'mean that's why me I try tell us that art is a reflection of life. I wants the youth not to shoot and leave a song about it [Verse 1: Erick Arc Elliott] How can I only handle my business from this 9-5 I smoke that dope, I call that potent, smokin' till I'm paralyzed High as hell I'm blinded, Zombies been auto pilot This year my bro told me get mine Oui oui, we in Paris Skepta MC, architecture the textures of beats My complexion obsessive to infections when I call to freaks While this mind is matured I got my green from my fans So if you smokin' on Reggie, I smack that green from your hands My revival, ye nah take me title cause man are stifle No man, no war, no rifle Me day are in the ghetto, sense it pon' me head stone If I was a star, word to God I'd be Fredro It's all fashion, I smokes good I talks lavish Led to fame, a French name, expensive habits Tappin' out to chicken wings from Bob Backlund Whole Foods, I eats good, it's organic [Verse 2: Zombie Juice] In Paris, got hotties, no molly just ganji Stone like a brick, meet you in the lobby Gettin' dome off the rip, gold colored tints Whip like I whip, lay my sh** down ya shrimp Technical message spray and beheaded Get used to slayin' They useful, they used to slaves Zulu man use their great The proofs of mis-truth Hidden in America's roots Livin'? I'm barely, just shoot To the stars and cave in the roof Big timer for the majors it's proof Skepta with the ganja, salute Represent for my mama, stay true Gotta get it for low and the flip too Flatbush in the news, cops k**ed who? n***as of the blue gotta trust who Money on my mind, what I've been through All alone in the scroll with a issue Sticking to the dry like a tissue Sacrifice for the world, gonna miss you One wish, few blunts and a pistol Frank White [?] we miss you Tip top, hip-hop rap's official Not hot, been told not official Big shot, big plot my [?] Zombies blow wide, continental [Hook: Erick Arc Elliott] x2 Yo shawty on my wood wood Ay it ain't no problem cause we smokin' on that good good Light one for my n***as who represent the hood hood You know we smokin' that fire, she light the wood Dawg I just f** her good [Verse 3: Meechy Darko] Won't be known until I'm on and n***as hand me the throne Physically been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own If a n***a nice as me then he must be a clone Yo b**h is foamin at the mouth, I had to give her a bone n***as should be embarra**ed I caught her red eyed in Paris Eyes red from smokin' the hash Ah sh** that cla**ic, I'm nasty pa** me it b**h and I smash it, pa** me a tab of some acid Pa** me the globe and I trot that b**h Like you know what the best is You Hardly Bent I'm Harvey Dent Put my faith in the flip, you ain't a pimp Your reign ain't sh**, you put your faith in the b**h Saint laurent crash denims, my sh** came with the rips My flow is sick, I spit more than a retard's kiss I'm in your b**h, I raided my hips like I'm ravishing Rick I'm rather sick, aha feel my vibe, catchin' my drift I wore a rubber that night, so that cannot be my kid Do as I say and get out, follow my actions and live [Verse 4: Skepta] I get love from the north and the west Love from the south and the east It's a zombie attack you b**hes, we don't care about the police I know you heard about the single, and you know about the album that I'm about to release That's why I'm in Paris taking pics with the girls outside on the streets There will never be another like me, rep my gang 'til I D.I.E And I don't wanna get buried in a grave Burn me and throw my ashes in the sea (amen) Hennessey and Coke in the cup And Pierre got me the weed and the Rizlas I'm gonna smoke my spliff 'til it gets to the roach and it burns my fingers Watch the rude boy spit now Musical chairs make a man sit down Any size, little rave or a big crowd Somebody's gonna die here like Chris Brown Picture me broke in the hood on the run from the police, up to no good Driving with no license, two packs in the pa**enger seat, looking like Suge f** that, I've gotta get paid I swear, I'm tryn'a be the hustler of the year I've been k**ing it for lots of years, put money on my head, that's stocks and shares I put the work in, I go too hard, business man with no business card Take a good look right now, the last time you see a rude boy like me spitting these bars [Hook: Erick Arc Elliot] x2