Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Flatline , by - V-ZillaRelease date: 30.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Flatline |
| Ayo Paz, yo Blac |
| I rep Official Pistol Gang all mothafuckin' day |
| Hahahahhaha |
| I pack it fast, no safety on the ratchet |
| Gats play chess like crazy with the gabbit |
| Bus ride mothafucka stayin' on the transit |
| Drugs like babies, real gracefully I handle it |
| I don’t think Lance could understand it |
| Boxcutter Pazi from the faces that I damage |
| I put your fuckin' brains in the Atlantic |
| To fuse y’all fuckas with your cainery and panic |
| You talk about hammers, and I’ll talk 'bout mine |
| When I’m fuckin' with the scramblers, I’m on cloud nine |
| Yeah, you disrespectful then it stomp out time |
| Bonti bwont covered in a fuckin' chalk out line |
| I’m the name that pop up when you talk 'bout grime |
| I’m the name that pop up when you talk 'bout shine |
| And the big black heavy metal four-five mine |
| I’m a G cocksucker, never cross that line, yeah |
| Rap game gone, flatline |
| It’s all over, today is the day we gonna 'em |
| Flat, frame, fall, flatline |
| We got an army, we loaded ready to hit 'em |
| (Check it) Yo call me Zilla, I’m a monster with clap and kicks |
| The reason alone, you niggas pushin' albums back |
| You got a squad, but I doubt you crack |
| Every release that you ever drop could be bundled in the value pack |
| Political rap, my man’s caught a bullet in Nam |
| Sitting twisted in the buggie with a seed in his arm |
| What’s the motive when the reason is harm |
| We in the ghetto everyday fightin' demons with a badge and batawn |
| I got six million ways to pop, hustle to get it |
| When the odds stack higher than knots, struggle to live it |
| You ain’t never felt the burn from lead |
| So I’m never catchin' the L, I just focus how to earn my bread |
| You down with OPG, I’m down with Paz and Blac |
| You down with dope emcees, my title proves that fact |
| Ain’t a city that could pull my slack |
| The red beam is an invitation to hell, once I pull that back |
| Rap game gone, flatline |
| It’s all over, today is the day we gonna 'em |
| Flat, frame, fall, flatline |
| We got an army, we loaded ready to hit 'em |
| «In America, ah people are uh, treated very much and uh, |
| the police are there to contain us, um to brutalize and murder us.» |
| And now’s over with the livest rhyme killaz |
| Knowledge unfoldin', is the rise from the sacred five pillars |
| Conquest the conquer, pillage your village |
| Respect God, play hard, even in a live scrimmage |
| Face squads that call, we tarnish their image |
| Viking style, celebrate with barrels of Guiness |
| And shoot outs, we replenish when the clicks is finished |
| Gettin' head on the couch, watchin' Venus play tennis |
| I hold a mic like Jeter hold tennants |
| It’s tragic like Troy Davis in his |
| From the ending to beginning, figure eight stay spinnin' |
| I’m infinite, you can’t bust off nigga you impentant |
| Sound waves travel underwater like sonar |
| I’m stealth, I can’t be detected by radar |
| Probably in a fly car, with the seats reclined |
| It’s Vinnie, Zilla and Blac nigga, flatline |