Vic Spencer & Chris Crack - Zebra Ave lyrics

[Verse 1: Vic Spencer] Put some sauce on it Pull my dick out Put Lara Croft on it You make up facts like a lost prophet You peep the old synopsis I get fresher clothes gothic at the germ like hawk spit Infectious as f** f**ing with me, I'm wishing your a** a guest list and luck On the rise like a tidal wave One of my old hoes decide to play on my phone, she want schlom In the P-Wing, sitting in the back of a gold C-Brig Interior gold and black like a bee sting See things, like the kids from the 6s and gets his, get bit on a Hula Park benches [Verse 2: Chris Crack] Trill n***as never die so I'm acting reckless d**h wishes on my set list I match quick with those hot girls I rock worlds like Wanda or Shanaynay, don't play about my pay day JK, barbecue sauce on big girls And stale fried rice I made bail twice the same night I'm still smoking, get your ribs broken For talking down on the Drip Gang Tote iron like piss stains LA traffic and I'm serving all six lanes I'ma refrain from slapping rappers just for being average And my polo kind of tattered cause it's from 89 So f** you and that lazy eye just give me mine [Verse 3: Ugly Boy Modeling] You a coward so don't ever play me sour like the mustard Part a n***a's head so hard make him think he Freddie Douglas I sit back abstaining, stacking bags in a f** it You irrelevant like titties in the public reading "don't touch 'em" f** you mean, huh? f** you mean? Call us nice guy squad, we're all all stars on my f**ing team This blue dream just might take me to the Elohim You fake blood like a Hollywood fight scene He like "dude, you s**ing my girl", ho, I might be f** a possibility, dawg, it's quite likely White lines, white tees, other white things And I come true like a male privilege white dream