[Intro: Sample]
"'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 me nah 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 shit down ya shrimp
Technical message spray and beheaded
Get used to slayin'
They useful, they used to slaves
Zulu man use their great
The gruesomest truths
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 killed who?
Victims of the blue gotta trust who
Money on my mind, what I've been through
All alone in this world with a issue
Sticking to the grime like a tissue
Sacrifice for the world, gonna miss you
One wish, few blunts and a pistol
Frank White in a drop top we miss you
Tip top, hip-hop rap's official
Not hot, been told not official
Big shot, big plot my confession
Zombies worldwide, continental
"'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 me nah 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 shit down ya shrimp
Technical message spray and beheaded
Get used to slayin'
They useful, they used to slaves
Zulu man use their great
The gruesomest truths
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 killed who?
Victims of the blue gotta trust who
Money on my mind, what I've been through
All alone in this world with a issue
Sticking to the grime like a tissue
Sacrifice for the world, gonna miss you
One wish, few blunts and a pistol
Frank White in a drop top we miss you
Tip top, hip-hop rap's official
Not hot, been told not official
Big shot, big plot my confession
Zombies worldwide, continental
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