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vince staples - queensbridge zoo lyrics
[prod. by jay curry]
[verse 1: vince staples]
welcome to the compton zoo, ridin’ on a chocolate moose
camoflage hummer gang, interior by dr. seuss
gold dust, gold chain you knew i had to rock the noose
just a n-gga anyway, emmett till semi spray
but i pack a right hook only robin givens knew
knock him out, paramedics had to use the pikachu
who invited sharks to the neighborhood swimming pool?
sellin’ streebo out of deebo’s pigeon coup-
deville, “ooh he ill” is what the b-tches say
that’ll put your d-ck away, bullets tend to ricochet
padlocks say shawn kemp had a flat top
trynna sell this richard pryor autographed magic box
i might trade for a harpoon or a sasquatch
a two-tone do-rag or a matlock dvd, flip hoes no tlc
sell pcp to minors
sherm by the boatload, perm from the soul glow
closest that i ever been to church was the pollo
no one out there can f-ck with me prodigy
[verse 2]
i wrote this verse on my way to church
rifle and the autographed bible in the backseat
life is like a track meet: when you hear them shots better run n-gga
cause i got that motherf-cking gun n-gga
drug-dealer, crime rates run in the family
juvenile felon so i’ll never go the grammy’s
who cares? rather drive drunk bumpin’ some brandy
going hard in the paint like i’m olowokandi
say, “hi” to the big black forty when it cl!ck-clack
push a n-gga’s wig back, pray for his family
catch his mom slippin’ turn him to bambi
prolly slam it like camby, cocaine flow
hoes propane blow, peggy hill
all my weapons k!ll come and test it n-gga
[speaking interlude]
by the way, mixtape december 30th…you’re welcome
[verse 3]
i’m that sh-t frankie lymon was stuffing up his arms
firearms snuck in the luggage just for the f-ck of it
i’m who would be runnin’ sh-t if jason took a day off
cruisin’ with that tommy gun, rip a n-gga’s face off
vanilla sky, got ’em high, glock named paula
sit inside of my tinted ride i squeeze it she be moanin’
kelly slater trynna rock the top, sharks start swarmin’
now you stuck in deep water with a smooth barracuda
custom bape, german lugers levitate, meet your maker
m-st-rbate, let ’em mace ya
b-tch so she can grade in greatness, sick c-m
guard-dog swag, but never bit none
your b-tch c-nt, ask her where she got that sh-t from
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