Flatbush ZOMBiES Headstone cover

Headstone
by
Lyrics and Meaning


Released
Apr 6, 2018
Ratings


Headstone Lyrics

Song Meaning
Verse 1
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 Weeze
We run this shit like a pair of cleats
It's hell on earth with this rap beat
Verse 2
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
Verse 3
Imagine when you're thirty thousand feet up what you think of?
Boy, I hated knowin' that my thoughts would turn to dreams
'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
But 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 terror dome
Verse 4
I hit it doggystyle, she throw it back
Yeah, I'm born to mack
It's dark in Hell, it's hot so leave me where I'm at
I'm livin' how I wanna, no reasonable doubt
It's clear to see, all eyes on me, four hundred degrees
Who am I? Ruthless, easy does it
The chronic, smoke it in public, hate it or love it
The underdogs, with liquid swords
It was written in my diary to start a 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 to kill, life after death, I made the sacrifice
I'm super duper fly, Juice'll keep them hypnotized
I said my name is Juice, America's most
Ain't no half-steppin', see you at the crossroads
Verse 5
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
Verse 6
It was written in a children's story, that life's a bitch
So what you 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 them
Hell on earth, these the last days, throw your guns up
Get money, Quiet Storm, havin' suicidal thoughts
For the C.R.E.A.M, renegade
For the money, only green is the lemonade
I'm a player on the late night tip, shorty triple six
She the prototype, Tip drill, kiss the fingertips
Resevoir Dogs, check the scar, ignorant shit
Blackout, can I live? Hell raiser, still feel me
Kiss of death, reprotect ya neck
Three dope boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz
Kiss of death, reprotect ya neck, shame on a nigga
Three dope boyz in a Cadillac, Gravediggaz
Verse 7
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
Verse 8
Right now I'm on the edge, so don't push me
Troublesome since '96, you a shook one
Breath easy on the ledge, I'm yo pusha
What's that? I smell pussy
Let me count my guns, um
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 run
Hi my name is Dirt Cobain
Like a pimp, here I go to the next episode
Ain't another nigga this explosive, beastcoast shit
BRR-BRR reload it
Fuck them other niggas, ride or die for my niggas
Strictly for my niggas, survival of the fittest
Woo-woo! That's the sound of the police
I'm in deep cover, skrr skrr
Leaned 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
Records on my death certificate, I gave you power
21 questions, like who shot ya? I shot ya!
Warning, watch them niggas flashin' like papparazi
Two words, fuck bitches, get money
Tonight's the night, guess who's back on my block
Rather you need dollar, get shot in Bucktown
This firearm, silencer on, that quiet storm
T-O-N-Y, top of New York, with a pitchfork

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