Flatbush Zombies - RedEye To Paris lyrics

rate me

Ft. Skepta

(Intro)

Cuz y'all grew up watching Rambo & Commando & Cobra & Schwarzenegger

Coincidentally is now the governor of a state in America

So where does the social responsibility fall fo' Hollywood?

Nahwimean? That's why me I try tell us that art is a reflection of life

I wants the youth not to shoot & leave a song about it

(Verse: Erick Arc Elliott)

How can I only handle my business from this 9 5

I smoke that dope, I call that potent, smoking 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 ya smoking on Reggie, I smack that green from yohands

My revival, ye nah take me title cuz 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

Tapping 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 ya in the lobby

Getting dome off the rip, gold colored tints

Whip like I whip, lay my shit down ya shrimp

Technical message spray & beheaded

Get used to slaying

They useful, they used to slaves

Suit 'em and use their great

The proofs of mis-truth

Hidden in America's roots

Living? I'm barely, just shoot

To the stars & cave in the roof

Big timer fo' the majors it's proof

Skepta wit the ganja, salute

Represent fo' my momma, stay true

Got to get it fo' low & the flip too

Flatbush in the news, cops killed who?

Niggas of the blue got to trust who

Money on my mind, what I've been thru'

All alone in the scroll wit a issue

Stickin' to the dry like a tissue

Sacrifice fo' the world, gonna miss ya

One wish, few blunts & a pistol

Frank White and I jump up, we miss ya

Tip top, hip-hop rap's official

Not hot, been told not official

Big shot, big plot my coefficient

Zombies blow wide, continental

(Hook x2)

Yo shawty on my wood-wood

It ain't no pro'lem chz we smoking on that good-good

Light one fo' my niggas who represent the hood-hood

Ya know we smoking that fire, she light the wood

Dawg, I just fuck 'er good

(Verse 3: Meechy Darko)

Won't be known until I'm on & niggas hand me the thrown

Physically been many places but I'm Brooklyn's own

If a nigga nice as me then he must be a clone

Yo bitch is foaming at the mouth, I had to give her a bone

Niggas should be embarrassed I caught her red eyed in Paris

Eyes red from smoking the hash

Ah shit that classic, I'm nasty pass me it

Bitch & I smash it, pass me a tab & sum' acid

Pass me the globe & I trot that bitch

Like ya know what the best is

Ya Hardly Bent I'm Harvey Dent

Put my face in the flip, ya ain't a pimp

Yo reign ain't shit, ya put yo faith in the bitch

Saint Laurent crash denims, my shit came wit the rips

My flow is sick, I spit more than a retard's kiss

I'm in yo bitch, I raided my hips like I'm ravishin' Rick

I'm rather sick, ahh fell my vibe, catching my drip

I wore a rubba that night, so that cannot be my kid

Do as I say & get out, follow my actions & live

(Verse 4: Skepta)

I get love from the north & the west

Love from the south & the east

It's a zombie attack ya bitches, we don't care about the police

I know ya heard about the single, & ya know about the album that I'm about to release

That's why I'm in Paris takin' pics wit the girls outside on the streets

There will neva be anotha like me, rep my gang till I DIE

& I don't want to get buried in a grave

Burn me & throw my ashes in the sea, Hennessy & Coke in the cup

& Pierre got me the weed & the Rizlas

I'm gonna smoke my spliff till it gets to the roach & 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

Sumebody's gonna die here like Chris Brown

Picture me broke in the hood on the run from the police, up to no good

Drivin' wit no license, two packs in the passenger seat, lookin' like Suge

Fuck that, I've got to get paid I swear, I'm trying to be the hustla of the year

I've been killin' it fo' lotta years, put money on my head, that's stocks & shares

I put the work in, I go too hard, business man wit no business card

Take a good look right now, the last time ya see a rude boy like me spittin' these bars

(Hook x2)