Headstone Lyrics - Flatbush Zombies

Victory, victory 

Gold on my neck—Mr. T 

Victory, victory 

Zombie Gang reppin' that NYC 

Victory, victory 

Ice round my neck like I'm Lil Weezy 

We run this shit like a pair of cleats 

It's hell on earth but this where I be 

Money over bitches on my headstone 

Here lies young nigga gettin' paid 

Never take a loss on my headstone 

Only take a L when I'm smokin' it 

Zombie gang three times on my headstone 

Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave 

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone 

Too late—he already dead 

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Imagine when you're thirty thousand feet up what you think of? 

Boy, I hated knowin' that my thoughts deterred a dream 

'Cause I never knew I'd get my chance to link up 

Boy, I tell you, all of this unusual to me 

Swear I came from the bottom, Flatbush livin', walkin' dead on 

Put your favorite rapper's name up on a headstone 

Biggie Big for the cheese and you're dead wrong 

Propaganda set the standards in the terrordome 

I hit it doggystyle, she throw it back, yeah, I'm born to mack 

It's dark and Hell is hot so leave me where I'm at 

I'm livin' how I wanna, no reasonable doubt 

It's clear to see, all eyez on me, 400 degrees 

Who am I? Ruthless, Eazy does it 

The chronic smoke in public, hate it or love it 

The underdogs, with liquid swords 

It was written in my diary this art of war 

I'm feelin' infamous, immortal with my technique 

A revolutionary shinin', with diamond teeth 

Young Don Cartagena, excuse my demeanor, this the glamour life 

You still not a player, you ain't half as nice 

I'm born again, life after death, I made the sacrifice 

I'm supa dupa fly, Juicy keep them hypnotized 

I said my name is Juice, AmeriKKKa's most 

Ain't no half-steppin', see you at tha crossroads 

Photos 

Put money over bitches on my headstone 

Here lies young nigga gettin' paper 

Never take a loss on my headstone 

Only take an L when I'm smokin' it 

Zombie gang three times on my headstone 

Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave 

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone 

Too late—he already dead 

It was written in the children's story, that life's a bitch 

So what'cha want? Everyday I struggle with it 

Only God can judge me slippin', I'm infinitely big pimpin' 

Though the genesis, dead presidents, drop a gem on 'em 

Hell on earth, these the last dayz, throw ya guns up 

Get money, Quiet Storm, havin' suicidal thoughts 

For the C.R.E.A.M, renegade 

For the money, all the green is the lemonade 

I'm a playa on the late night tip, shorty triple six 

She the prototype, Tip drill, kiss her fingertips 

Resevoir Dogs, check the score, ignorant shit 

Blackout, can I live? Hellrazor, still feel me 

Kiss of death, and protect ya neck 

Three dope boys in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz 

Kiss of death, and protect ya neck, shame on a nigga 

Three dope boys in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz 

Put money over bitches on my headstone 

Here lies young nigga gettin' paper 

Never take a loss on my headstone 

Only take a L when I'm smokin' it 

Zombie gang three times on my headstone 

Been thuggin' from the cradle to the grave 

Now your favorite rapper name on a headstone 

Too late—he already dead 

Right now I'm on the edge (so don't push me) 

Troublesome since '96 (you a shook one) 

Breath easy, know the ledge (I'm your pusha) 

What's that? I smell pussy 

Let me count my guns, um, hm 

Five, four, three, two, one, run! 

Hi, my name is Durt Cobain 

Like a pimp, here I go, 'til the next, episode 

Ain't a nann nigga this explosive 

Beast Coast shit (blat-blat!) reloaded 

Fuck them other niggas, ride or die for my niggas 

Strictly 4 my niggas, survival of the fittest 

Woop-woop! That's the sound of the police, I'm in deep cover 

Earth, skrt skrt, lean back, give me one more chance 

They say Jesus walks and the Devil wear Prada 

But I'm so, so deaf, God can't tell me nothing 

Write this on my death certificate, I gave you power 

21 questions, like who shot ya? I shot ya! 

Warning, watch them niggas flashin' lights papparazi 

Two words, fuck bitches, get money 

Tonight's da night, guess who's back on my block 

Rather unique, I lick a shot in Bucktown 

This firearm silencer on, that quiet storm 

T-O-N-Y—top of New York with a pitchfork