Headstone

Victory, victory

Gold on my neck, Mr. T

Victory, victory

Zombie Gang reppin' that NYC

Victory, victory

Ice 'round my neck like I'm lit all week

We run this shit like a pair of cleats

It's hell on earth with this rap beat

"Money over bitches" on my headstone

Here lies young **** gettin' paper

"Never take a loss" on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' this

"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

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

Put your favorite rapper's name up on a headstone

Bi-Big for the cheese and you're Dead Wrong

Propaganda set the standards in the Terrordome

I hit it doggy style, 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 in public, hate it or love it

The underdogs with liquid swords

It was written in my diary, this art of war

I'm feeling 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 sacrafice

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

Put "Money over bitches" on my headstone

Here lies young **** gettin' paper

"Never take a loss" on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' this

"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 you want? Every day, I struggle with it

Only God catchin' 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 her fingertips

Reservoir Dog, check the scar, ignorant shit

Blackout, can I live? Hellraiser, still feel me

Kiss of death, and Protect Ya Neck

Three Dope Boyz in the Cadillac, Gravedigga

Kiss of death, and Protect Ya Neck, Shame On a ****

Three Dope Boyz in the Cadillac, Gravedigga

Put "Money over bitches" on my headstone

Here lies young **** gettin' paper

"Never take a loss" on my headstone

Only take a L when I'm smokin' this

"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

Breathe easy know the ledge, I'ma be your pusher

What's that? I smell pussy

Let me count my guns, um, hmm

Five, four, three, two, one, run!

Hi, my name is Dirt Cobain

Like a pimp, yeah, I go to the next episode

Ain't no damn **** this explosive, beast coast shit

Brr-brr, reload it

Fuck them other ****, ride or die for my ****

Strictly for my ****, survival of the fittest

Woop-woop, that's the sound of the police

I'm in deep, cover earth, skrrt skrrt

Lean back, give me one more chance

They say Jesus Walks and the Devil wear Prada

But I'm so, so def, God can't tell me nothin'

Write this on my death certificate, I gave you power

21 Questions, like Who Shot Ya? I shot ya

Warnin', watch them **** flashin' like paparazzi

Two words, fuck bitches, get money

Tonight's the 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