Video realizado y dirigido por Mario Pfeifer en colaboración con la banda de rap Flastbush ZOMBIES de Brooklyn, como parte de una instalación en exhibición en Ludlow 38 hasta el 25 de Octubre.

[Verse 1: Meechy Darko]
Black activists on actavis
A whole sheet of LSD but that ain’t for the mattress
Ask ya bitch, my stroke is immaculate
A sinner and saint, I’m flashy as an acid trip
Just me and a rusty burner
Ah, ah, ah, shout out to Shmurda
Shout out to Rowdy, my mind is cloudy
Stay with iron round me like Robert Downey
Don’t you doubt me, King like LeBron watch me switch my mouthpiece
Running through knots
Couple karats in my mouth like “What’s up, Doc?”
I be talking to my 9 like “What’s up, Glock?”
I flirt with death, the drugs heighten’ my paranoia
But that’s what the, acid taught us
You got a better chance doing laps in pirhanna waters
Hide your daughters, join a cult, let’s have an orgy
My biography is gory
My life like American Horror Story
Still not the father, that’s word to Maury
Revolver ring six times like Robert Horry (and one!)
Second amendment, nigga, grab your gun
Invest in a vest when you’re from those slums
LSD amazing, sour kush fragrance
Somebody tell Uncle Sam I want my reparation
40 acres and a pearl white slave bitch
If that offends your race, bitch, well I’ll give you a facelift
You run away from your problems
Batty boy, then you gon face this
Lord knows I wanna erase him
Take him to a level of darkness he ain’t been
Remove the safety
Can I end up in the state pen with some statements
Hard time behind these bars, working the grave shift
Motherfucker we made it, ain’t it amazin’?
Nigga I had to suffer for this, lost every lover for this
Every night I argue with my mother for this
Acid was an escape, not a way to the bank
Not a phase, not a trend, it was the means to my ends
I don’t need no friends
All I need is this gat, all I need is this Henn
All I need is this pad, all I need is this pen, motherfucker

[Verse 2: Erick Arc Elliott]
Recognize genius, still the same motive
No I’m not bogus, everybody taking notice
Just me and my opponents
Fuck the cops, they a bunch of cronies
Just save a little weed for the morning
This is the environment we raised in
When you try to break out but you’re caged in
Smoking hella weed, this my motivation
Zombies doing numbers, I promised a combination
This is for the music, fill it with the hatred
But only real niggas know how good to make it
I been a fan of rap before I was a fan of being black
Now I’m famous, got family, no fantasy in that
My niggas ain’t scared to deploy
When destroyed off the cannabinoid
I’m out-of-body like I’m Enter the Void
In first class, God loving your boy
My employees got hella report but now enjoying the allure of it
Damn, why are we so sure of it?
Even when you make mistakes, man they all love it
The allure of it, why are we so sure of it?
Even when you make mistakes, man they all love it
Remorting the things, question all that remains
Who was living before with clean water to drink
We avoided to think
But this a nation of lost souls
So I’ll meet you at the crossroads

[Verse 3: Zombie Juice]
Rest in peace Steezy, Rest in peace Stevie
Put the cup down, y’all niggas still tryna be he?
No disrespect, but I know some of y’all
Influenced by hip hop and take it shit too far
No brains, man, just a slight change in plans
Use the mic to rule and rock and choose to stand
No cause ya flaws
We truth that’s all
You could rap all you all you want with no message involved
I’ll bout out in grass meditate in Nepal
I to pray God God hear me or the devil I call
I swear I said it before, y’all I ain’t ready for war
Misjudged, misguided, not a ounce of quitter
Nah, true survivor
Niggas do drugs but ya mind still basic psychedelics wasted
Time can’t save ya
Cop killer if ya wanna come up in my face with that nonsense
Go Thrilla like Mike Jack, bodega be that nigga
Been in straight jacket
Let my mind think backwards
Roll a backwood, pass it before load this Mac
And let this whole clip pack em ask a question
Like how we grow up in a system
Filled with hate and oppression
And where we going when our pops and moms would left?
I’m still smoking in the hood on the project steps
But my money longer than a fucking ostrich neck, nigga

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