FT. FLATBUSH ZOMBIES

^!$$%, Iâ??m high off living, do what you do

Live how you live, hold your opinion
Probably cough into a coma if you hit that bowl
God bless the man if he just that bold

You donâ??t do it like we do, nah, we donâ??t believe you
You ^!$$%s on that K2, we smoking sour diesel
Kushed God, (*##$, ^!$$% chief like Katonah

Flow bonkers, been fly since Tonka
Contraband left on my dresser
Bagged up, got extras, more bread to get up

I hustle, I ainâ??t letting up
These wild ^!$$%s sleep, money still printing up
So I be Zombie status

With my Zombie ^!$$%s, getting all this cabbage
Kushed God in the physical, Smokers Club original
Members are minimal


Donâ??t give me no bammer weed
We donâ??t smoke that %#@! in the N.Y.C

Lucy in the sky with diamonds, feeling vibrant
Close your eyelids, the glorious dead arrive with
DZA, we stay high, stoned, and stay fly

Three grams for breakfast, hash wax for seconds
My reflection, the force to be reckoned, but my direction
These ^!$$%s awkwardly threaten, donâ??t need a weapon, this menace

Spark that leaf [?] with a ounce of top shelf chilling, top peeling
All about that green, ^!$$%, can you hear me?
Same ^!$$% on the block, serving grams, getting knots

Wha-what? What you thought, you was smoking that good?
I got a sack of dour and that wax is hitting proper
Dusty Rhodes, elbows dropper, only smoke them if they proper

The dondada, #~!!@ popper, show stopper
Z-O-M-B (*##$


Donâ??t give me no bammer weed
We donâ??t smoke that %#@! in the N.Y.C
We them top notch marijuan coppers

O.G. a dour, make sure itâ??s proper

Not swagger, but effervescence, some say that sex is a weapon

Keep shorty around like she pregnant
Since I have no filter on the blunts, I have no filter on my mouth
$#&@ the living, we are dead, I smoke the marley like the dreads

Rude boy, choose I, lick a shot, choose I
I am on that new high, Iâ??m just trying to boost mine
Spanish mamis say my eyes rojo, donâ??t call po-po

Iâ??m rolling solo, dank, buddha, ainâ??t a thing to you
Eyes closed, Bush, got me singing songs to you
So whatâ??s wrong with you, not getting along with you

We should live it a little, smoke trees, $#&@ all my enemies
Since all my ^!$$%s are smoking good, my (*##$ turned Hollywood
My ^!$$%s are riding good, take a pull of the chronic cough

Making you lose your composure so you could hardly talk
DZA got â??em, spark the lighter up
Not dividing us, ^!$$%, you ainâ??t as high as us


Donâ??t give me no bammer weed
We donâ??t smoke that %#@! in the N.Y.C

We them top notch marijuan coppers
O.G. a dour, make sure itâ??s proper