Zebra Ave lyrics

[Verse 1: Vic Spencer]
Put some sauce on it
Pull my di*k out
Put Lara Croft on it
You make up facts like a lost prophet
You peep the old synopsis
I get fresher clothes gothic at the germ like hawk spit
Infectious as f*ck
f*cking with me, I'm wishing your ass a guest list and luck
On the rise like a tidal wave
One of my old hoes decide to play on my phone, she want schlom
In the P-Wing, sitting in the back of a gold C-Brig
Interior gold and black like a bee sting
See things, like the kids from the 6s and gets his, get bit on a Hula Park benches

[Verse 2: Chris Crack]
Trill n*ggas never die so I'm acting reckless
Death wishes on my set list
I match quick with those hot girls
I rock worlds like Wanda or Shanaynay, don't play about my pay day
JK, barbecue sauce on big girls
And stale fried rice
I made bail twice the same night
I'm still smoking, get your ribs broken
For talking down on the Drip Gang
Tote iron like p*ss stains
LA traffic and I'm serving all six lanes
I'ma refrain from slapping rappers just for being average
And my polo kind of tattered cause it's from 89
So f*ck you and that lazy eye just give me mine
[Verse 3: Ugly Boy Modeling]
You a coward so don't ever play me sour like the mustard
Part a n*gga's head so hard make him think he Freddie Douglas
I sit back abstaining, stacking bags in a f*ck it
You irrelevant like titties in the public reading "don't touch 'em"
f*ck you mean, huh? f*ck you mean?
Call us nice guy squad, we're all all stars on my f*cking team
This blue dream just might take me to the Elohim
You fake blood like a Hollywood fight scene
He like "dude, you sexing my girl", ho, I might be
f*ck a possibility, dawg, it's quite likely
White lines, white tees, other white things
And I come true like a male privilege white dream