Redeye To Paris Lyrics - Singles - Flatbush Zombies

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 

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 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 

Tappin' out to chicken wings from Bob Backlund 

Whole Foods, I eats good, it's organic 

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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 

[?] man use their great 

The proofs of mis-truth 

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? 

Niggas of the blue gotta trust who 

Money on my mind, what I've been through 

All alone in the scroll with a issue 

Sticking to the dry like a tissue 

Sacrifice for the world, gonna miss you 

One wish, few blunts and a pistol 

Frank White [?] we miss you 

Tip top, hip-hop rap's official 

Not hot, been told not official 

Big shot, big plot my [?] 

Zombies blow wide, continental 

Photos 

Yo shawty on my wood wood 

Ay it ain't no problem cause we smokin' on that good good 

Light one for my niggas who represent the hood hood 

You know we smokin' that fire, she light the wood 

Dawg I just fuck her good 

Won't be known until I'm on and niggas hand me the throne 

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 foamin at the mouth, I had to give her a bone 

Niggas should be embarrassed I caught her red eyed in Paris 

Eyes red from smokin' the hash 

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

Bitch and I smash it, pass me a tab of some acid 

Pass me the globe and I trot that bitch 

Like you know what the best is 

You Hardly Bent I'm Harvey Dent 

Put my faith in the flip, you ain't a pimp 

Your reign ain't shit, you put your faith in the bitch 

Saint laurent crash denims, my shit came with the rips 

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

I'm in your bitch, I raided my hips like I'm ravishing Rick 

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

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

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

I get love from the north and the west 

Love from the south and the east 

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

I know you heard about the single, and you know about the album that I'm about to release 

That's why I'm in Paris taking pics with the girls outside on the streets 

There will never be another like me, rep my gang 'til I D.I.E 

And I don't wanna get buried in a grave 

Burn me and throw my ashes in the sea (amen) 

Hennessey and Coke in the cup 

And Pierre got me the weed and the Rizlas 

I'm gonna smoke my spliff 'til it gets to the roach and 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 

Somebody's gonna die here like Chris Brown 

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

Driving with no license, two packs in the passenger seat, looking like Suge 

Fuck that, I've gotta get paid I swear, I'm tryn'a be the hustler of the year 

I've been killing it for lots of years, put money on my head, that's stocks and shares 

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

Take a good look right now, the last time you see a rude boy like me spitting these bars