Thrilla - Bodega Bamz, Flatbush Zombies

From Flatbush to Broadway

Niggas shootin' up the ave in broad day

Tanboys got that tan shit

We got more quarters than the arcade

Butterfly blade, face sauteed

I laugh and then, rip off face

And sew it on my letterman

And slowdance on your carcass

I’m rollin, I mean Ronin

Life is just a car chase

Bullseye on your third eye

Red dot on your target

Blood smear on your friends near

Now your homies is shark baits

Bullets in the diem, no carpe

You copy?

Like dub tapes

I’m really bout that fetti, Pa

Shoot a bitch over my bread like Remy Ma

Peel off (vroom vroom)

Now your city block

Renegade living like a never seen the cops

Everything stay schemin' and I’ve seen the plot

When your words are your weapon you don’t need no Glock

When your words are your weapon you don’t need no Glock

Tanboys, Zombie bonded in blood metal slugs

Blood runneth over

Could you sip it any slower?

Hold up hold up

Row up, get your hoes up, we gettin' trippy

Got four hoes with me, they down to swallow

Down a bottle of that tan juice, drop a bottle

Get your head loose, Brooklyn

Them shots rang uptown, that block game

Make more money than cops do ‘cause the block fool

Niggas ain’t on my shuttle

Niggas don’t know that I come through with the snorkel

Got the gun too and it rip through

One one two, fuck fuck you

Shootin' niggas in threes, like Reggie Miller

Zombie game, man, fuck y’all niggas

Juice be the name, got love for the green

Came from the bottom, ain’t never gone aim

Bomb on you niggas like Hiroshim

I’m Mean Gene, blowin' hella green

Got my seat back and my heat strapped

And you layin' dead on the street smacked

Peep that, smoke a blunt then relax (relax)

Brown water, my tan juice

100 keep that loose on deck

Chain so heavy might lose my neck

Lose my life never lose respect

I stamp down this papi talk

I run the town your papis walk

No cosign (nigga fuck that shit)

She tryna chill?

Nigga fuck that bitch

(Spanish) Maricon gran puta Like a barracuda

Eat the pussy up, heart jumpin' out her hooters

SSI so to find my nigga Luca

Loco 730 fuckboy

I make a nigga look up like a pump fake

You won’t electrocute of that duct tape

Go roll, see, smell;

Serve Colgate

That’s blanco, color coordinate

A dead witness is a cold case, put new dope in that old vein)

Ignore the pain, we the New, New York

In this old game, yall rappers look pale

Learn to survive since Oregon Trail

I’mma just win never tie or trail

This nigga pussy leave him holy like the grail

Picture me scared, frame hangin' off a nail

Nah not me

I’m the one, not two, so high I see three

Like Paul