BetterOffDead Tour Cypher 2 lyrics

[Verse 1: Zombie Juice]
I been here, you been where?
Life ain't sweet, no beach chair
Arc choppin' samples, gotta clear air
Still hustle every day like there's no care
I pray everyday, too much sin
n*ggas at the top, soon fallin'
Man, I got nothin' to lose
Probably be on front page bringin' up the old ways
f*ck your major corporations, the government, they rapists
Don't matter where you're from, grab your motherf*ckin' gun
When they run up in your crib, spray 'em down like it's fun
And they don't give a f*ck if we livin' in hell
As long as they can make money off our motherf*ckin' tales
From Kanye to Kimmy, Chris Brown, Rihanna
They wanna see us lose, our relationship's our noose
When n*ggas in the hood ain't got no f*ckin' shoes
Nah, we smarter, we gotta change the game
It's our f*ckin world, it's time to make the claim
Bang, bang

[Verse 2: Bodega Bamz]
One hundred keep it, I live, die by my own hands
Somebody bodyin' me is not in my program
It's ironic that I called my coke Lohan
Spank a young n*gga 'til he turn into a grown man
And I'm not a grown man, got nothin' to prove
Buck-fifty your pretty face, I got money to lose
I got b*tches to choose from
And please, no hickeys b*tch that's rule one
My baby mother wild, me and my ten boys pow-wow
At the round table, check your cell phones
40 cals, my Glock never on safety
n*gga never played me, n*gga never robbed me
Bullet never grazed me, whassup ho?
I'ma give you what you need
Some hard di*k and coke, I'ma put up in yo' as*h*le
It's ironic they want beef with the cash cow
I'm tryba get in this motherf*cker and cash out
A couple bottles of brown water
When the sun up, papi pass out
Cold as ice, anty up when we mash out
Homie, that's real talk, raised on Baltic Ave
Now I walk the [?] walk, what's up, though? Yeah
[Interlude: Meechy Darko & Erick Arc Elliott]
I ain't walk nowhere, n*gga
This n*gga
You up now?
You rappin', n*gga?
Nah
I'll rap, n*gga

[Verse 3: Meechy Darko]
Posin' for photos
Pistol in hand, collar open like Han Solo
Who roll six grams, don't even pass, this one a dolo
Nine in yo' chest, nine in yo' spine, Tony Romo
My liquor dark, my b*tches light, pus*y's a homo
I'm from the ghetto where we recycle our paper plates
And everybody got a relative upstate
n*gga, I'm talkin' jail upstate, not a crib upstate
Hog-tying's tiring, rather use duct tape
Or I could fibre-wire them
Extended clips are my specialty, especially when aimed at enemies with benefits
Ain't got a license for my whip, or my weaponry
But f*ckin' n*ggas still ride out for them presidents
But only for Franklin, Benjamin
Gun-butt ya, cut ya, I snuff ya with that snub nose
I'm robbin' every local deli for Marley and Fronto (Ayy)
My Zombie mami's poppin' molly, I just pop a tab
Open a bag of that maui wowie, roll it, take a drag
Cops in Impalas won't ever stop me, Zombies on yo' ass
Most of these n*ggas is carbon copies, Harlem get the cash
Word to Ohla and my n*gga Papi, I like my head sloppy, b*tch
[Outro]
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I got a girl, but I really need a wife at home
I'm gone