R.i.p.c.d. Lyrics - 3001: A Laced Odyssey - Flatbush Zombies

The rhyme is so raw, most these rappers need a seminar 

You copy the same schematics, you making the same songs 

You thought that you were the only, but understand it's the physical 

Artistry manifest, but know I [?] original art 

Sick as creation no need for further analysis 

Plus the beats bang prestige giving me calluses 

Even if it's assumed, proving it all again 

Selling out all the souls never selling out who I am 

Mild temper venter, chronic keep me casual 

Formally introduced to a journey into the natural 

The three, two zeros then proceeded by one 

Laced like your woven tennis shoes before you go run 

Danger danger, Will Robinson 

There's a crisis here, nappy ain't dirty 

Raised this man it's just a type of hair 

Nightmares have just begun, there's no enticing him 

Limbs relaxed, but your music pop like a Vicodin 

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R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits 

Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit 

We love to boost the speed 

We love the memory 

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be 

Smoke smoke drip sip sip sip 

Eyes closed like a [?] 

No forgiveness, just a sick bitch 

Cause I'm under destruction what is this? 

Just a young nigga ready to get this 

If I fall on my face, you're my witness 

Feast on my blood when I leave this 

Didn't mention I'm starting to think that 

This world is [?] like a sea ship 

Walking to hell with the demons 

How can the heavens defeat them? 

Sometimes I just wanna, leave 'em 

This feeling is something I can't [?] 

I just wanna be where I came from 

I'm never gon' see where I came from 

Rest in peace to the Queen son 

Brooklyn baby reborn 

Photos 

This is like a warning Flatbush swarming Nike shoes on 

Prove them critics wrong getting cream bitch I love it 

And the fans hold us down, put nothing above 

R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits 

Cause new computer shit without the means to play the shit 

We love to boost the speed 

We love the memory 

It got me feeling light with nothing like we used to be 

The wickedest, man of fire the new Richard Pryor 

The wicked lit, rubber on my dick 

Cause I don't want that Charlie Sheen shit 

Please don't say you're the highest until you met your highness 

I just, want the head like ISIS 

Fuck her so precise her pussy gushing like a geyser 

I'm Michael Myers with these grip pliers took off your eyelids 

I sit in silence, speaking tongues and burnt bibles 

So open letter to all of my rivals you will not vanquish my titles 

My semi-automatic, will splatter a nigga like Jackson Pollock 

Deranged since birth I was conceived in an insane asylum 

I solemnly swear this evening to refrain from the violence 

Young and wilding, psilocybin still my style 

LSD drops in my iris, police sirens 

No guidance, the belly of the beast is where I reside in 

Grimy and vibrant like Busta Rhymes, in the early 90's 

Click boom, your head blew like you play for the Giants 

Lyrical tyrant the way I be rhyming 

I deserve all of the [?] surprises my pistol be hiding I pull it surprise 'em 

My voice can be hypnotizing every verse I deliver be vivid and visually striking 

Been the highest since I arrived and the climate is rising 

It's 'bout to get violent cover your eye and take this lyrical dose Doctor Meechy prescribed 

I slide inside her I love her tight vagina no [?] 

Back to the cypher I got chronic to light up pass me the lighter