Flatbush Zombies - Headstone lyrics

[Intro] Victory, victory Gold on my neck, Mr. T Victory, victory Zombie gang repping that NYC Victory, victory Ice round my neck like [?] We run this sh** like a pair of cleats It's hell on earth with this rap beat [Hook: Meechy Darko] Money over b**hes on my headstone Here lies young n***a getting paper Never take a loss on my headstone Only take a L when I'm smoking it Zombie gang three times on my headstone Been thugging, from the cradle to the grave Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone Too late, he already dead [Verse 1: Erick Arc Elliot] Imagine when you're thirty thousand feet up what you think of?Boy, I hated knowing 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 living, walking 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 2: Zombie Juice] I hit it doggystyle, she throw it back Yeah, I'm born to mack It's dark in Hell, it's hot so leave me where I'm at I'm living how I wanna, no reasonable doubt It's clear to see, all eyez on me, four hundred degrees Who am I? Ruthless, easy does it The chronic, smoke it in public, hate it or love it The underdogs, with liquid swords It was written in my diary to start a war I'm feeling infamous, immortal with my technique A revolutionary shining, 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 to k**, life after d**h, I made the sacrafice I'm super duper fly, Juice'll keep them hypnotized I said my name is Juice, America's most Ain't no half-stepping, see you at the crossroads [Hook: Meechy Darko] Money over b**hes on my headstone Here lies young n***a getting paper Never take a loss on my headstone Only take a L when I'm smoking it Zombie gang three times on my headstone Been thugging from the cradle to the grave Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone Too late, he already dead [Verse 3: Erick Arc Elliot] It was written in a childrens story, that life's a b**h So what you want? Everyday I struggle with it Only god can judge me slipping, I'm infinitely big pimpin' Though the genesis, dead presidents, drop a gem on them Hell on earth, these the last days, throw your guns up Get money, Quiet Storm, having suicidal thoughts For the C.R.E.A.M - renegade For the money, only green is the lemonade I'm a player on the late night tip, shorty triple six She the prototype, [?] trill [?] fingertips Resevoir Dogs, check the scar, ignorant sh** Blackout, can I live? Hell raiser, still feel me Kiss of d**h, reprotect ya neck Three dope boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz Kiss of d**h, reprotect ya neck, shame on a n***a Three dope boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz [Hook: Meechy Darko] Money over b**hes on my headstone Here lies young n***a getting paper Never take a loss on my headstone Only take a L when I'm smoking it Zombie gang three times on my headstone Been thugging from the cradle to the grave Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone Too late, he already dead [Verse 4: Meechy Darko] Right now im on the edge, so dont push me Troublesome since 96, you a shook one Breath easy on the ledge, Ima push ya What's that? I smell p**y Let me count my guns, hum 5,4,3,2,1 run Hi my name is Dirt Cobain Like a pimp, yeah I go to the next episode Ain't another n***a this explosive, beastcoast sh** BRR-BRR reload it f** them other n***as, ride or die for my n***as Strictly for my n***as. Survival of the fittest Woo-woo! That's the sound of the police I'm in deep cover, skrr skrr Leaned back, give me one more chance They say Jesus walks and the Devil wear Prada But I'm so, so dead, God can't tell me nothing Records on my d**h certificate, I gave you power 21 questions, like who shot ya? I shot ya! Warning, watch them n***as flashing like papparazi Two words, f** b**hes, get money Tonight's the night, guess who's back on my block Rather you need dollar, get shot in Bucktown This firearm, silencer on, that quiet storm T-O-N-Y, top of New York, with a pitchfork