Flatbush Zombies - Half - Time lyrics

These some intimate thoughts
In a Porsche, sipping Cris' through a straw
You on the board
Trying to get through a shore
I was bored, trying to get me a broad
Not a bitch or a whore
You talking rank, tryna' settle the score
Diamond to dog
Living like the kind in the air
Peace to my earth
I swear that she the mom of the year
Peace on my turf
Ducking all the models in here
Beating the dirt
Success is like kilometers near
Stuck at my worst
Karma talking dead in my ears
I'm writing this verse
Same time I met with my fears
Quarter-century but way way ahead of my years
I been gone since Daquan seen
Him dead at the stairs
Stay strapped though, never lack though
Watch your back though word to Fat Joe
We let them ninety-nine clap mo'
This the city called the rotten apple
Now you know if you didn't know
Nigga better pop a Snapple

Sitting in a room like why the room is
Spinning like the bitch in Exorcist head is?
My mind is always on lettuce
Paper chase, shrooms laced
Heard the road is infinite
No chain, no pendant no Range, no Bentley
My rhymes be shitting on lives
Of rappers you into
It ain't ironic I use a number-two pencil
Better pay homage if ever we bump into
Shotty pump hit you, mama grab the tissue
Extra magazine, licking niggas wasn't a issue
Saint Laurent leather
I'm like Fonz with a pistol
In broad day, I'll address any issue
And undress any damsel in distress
If she into dead niggas
And I ain't talking about the
Presidents or the evil residents
Never see the Benz again
All four quarters, it's onslaught
Pure slaughter
All aboard bitch cause' it's all water

The Messiah and the Maestro
Pen prolific and now I'm
Twisted off nice 'dro
Thoughts gifted, I'm non-existent tonight, ho
I hit her once, slide shawty like the iPhone
So I shine regal for the people in Paraná
One kiss for my girl, two kiss for my mama
Parted from my pain, won't dissipate
This is missions on minimum wage
Until I'm dug up out the grave, reincarnated
Po' her ass on the glass, off the Bombay
I get around 2Pac, just like the song say
Flow frame of thought
Fuck your loss this is Fonzie
The Columbine of the Comic-Con
I'm blowing up for the common kind
I told you pigs I ate finer-swine
I got my own shit why you riding mine
Huh? And we close at Ramadan
And you not a soldier
Need a shoulder you can cry upon

Run from the Ops, duck shots and maintain
Timbs butterscotch, Balmain at ballgames
I ain't ever flopped, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get
(High)
Learn from the block, we plot to get payed
YSL denim, J's that's all suede
Never ever flop, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get
(High)
Run from the Ops, duck shots and maintain
Timbs butterscotch, Balmain at ballgames
I ain't ever flopped, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get
(High)
Learn from the block, we plot to get payed
YSL denim, J's that's all suede
Never ever flop, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get
(High)