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hoodrich pablo juan - zombamafoo (remix) lyrics
[verse 1: lil uzi vert]
chopper on me and you know that b-tch folding
pistol on me and you know that b-tch loaded
living my life just like everything golden
when i say that, i’m talking ’bout the rollie
n-gg- talk sh-t, put a hole in him slowly
then i bag his b-tch, f-ck on that b-tch slowly
said you getting money, then you gotta show me
know i’m a vlone thug b-tch, i’m so lonely
check it out, diamonds shine in the dark
water ring look like voss
f-ck her once, break her heart
skate on that girl like my name tony hawk
had the swag from the start, had the sh-t in my car
don’t got, aim with the moss-
berg, so cold that my watch made me cough
i ain’t never took a loss, keep it a hundred, of course
i pulled out that lamb, no honda accord
i’ll f-ck your b-tch and then i’ll hit record
i’ll took the xan, then i’ll hit the snore
walk on the dead, b-tch i trip on the corpse
counting the bands, but y’all mentioning forbes
it felt like just yesterday, i was poor
wake up, i’m swaggin’ in christian dior
[chorus: hoodrich pablo juan]
i’m dressing like i was zombamafoo
got lions and snakes on my gucci shoes
poured up a deuce, i rolled up a blunt or two
your b-tch wanna f-ck when she come through
sensei busting up bricks, i do kung-fu
good aim when shooting, i’m hunting you
caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo
all black ghost pull up, peek-a-boo
i’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best
i got the juice, i pour up that hitech
four pockets full, looking like thigh pads
talking that gangsta sh-t, no, you ain’t ’bout that hoodrich
i keep the strap in my louie bag
f-ck on your b-tch, give her back, i’m through with that
filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats
designer my fashion, i’m still sipping act
[verse 2: hoodrich pablo juan]
i got them cookies, they fresh out the oven
juuging and packing, i’m making sh-t double
four in the 20, i like my sh-t muddy
f-ck on that hoe, then i call up her buddy
rich n-gg- status, i keep the strap on me
my red bottoms made from the hair of a pony
my young n-gg-s murking, they scared to be opponents
talking that f-ck sh-t, we pulling right up on it
that pint don’t come sealed, n-gg-, i don’t want it
i trap out the bando, n-gg-, like it’s haunted
hoodwolf, leave me with the junkies in the dungeon
i still serve a n-gg- a bale of the onion
better go ask your b-tch, i’ve been getting money
real candler road n-gg-, you the [?]
i gotta meet the plug way out in conyers
i got the paper like folder dividers
buy the work, no cosigners
real street n-gg-, i ain’t taking no dummies
can’t get it the way we trying, n-gg-, you’ll die
i can seen a n-gg- acting like me, stop lying
i’m pablo the plug, you ain’t sold a dime
i’m in the concrete jungle with the lions
i need the pints, n-gg-, i don’t buy lines
when i get bricks, yeah, i’m paying for mine
360 ring, why the f-ck would i sign?
[chorus: hoodrich pablo juan]
i’m dressing like i was zombamafoo
got lions and snakes on my gucci shoes
poured up a deuce, i rolled up a blunt or two
your b-tch wanna f-ck when she come through
sensei busting up bricks, i do kung-fu
good aim when shooting, i’m hunting you
caught a cold from my ice, ah-choo
all black ghost pull up, peek-a-boo
i’m smoking that platinum cookies, that’s the best
i got the juice, i pour up that hitech
four pockets full, looking like thigh pads
talking that gangsta sh-t, no, you ain’t ’bout that hoodrich
i keep the strap in my louie bag
f-ck on your b-tch, give her back, i’m through with that
filthy rich like the sewer, don’t hang with no rats
designer my fashion, i’m still sipping act
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