Club Soda Lyrics

[Verse 1: Zombie Juice]
The high, exalted professional like DJ Clue
I might get lost like every night
Hell, my life like a vivid picture, a porno movie
Smoking Buddha with shooters, maneuvering the steez
Sharp like a Ginsu, I bleed for your sins
I'm G-double-O-D
Believe what I feel, feel what I see
Do what I want, why you trying to do what I do?
Stay in your lane, young man
I do my thing, young man

[Verse 2: Erick the Architect]
Although I never made a reason to lie, I kiss the sky
Her imagination bleed into mine, we intertwined
Divine to a T, cop you want from me?
The cops cop from the bums, the bums cop from me
True say, young virgin eyes are from demise
Where the pun is bite the curb and die, I improvise
Not your televised reality, your dreams are falsified
Now you pivot on your wish to be wise as third eye
Long shot, one try, lead fly

[Verse 3: Zombie Juice]
Body like Michelle Tucker
Fuck her like I love her

It's simple as we break it down on instrumentals
Straight killer ninja, bounty on your head
Wrap you in your sheets, defecate, suffocate and bleed
As you plead, give me all the ganja, the money
Being broke, ain't a damn thing funny
No taxes, dirty money circle like the axis
Wax this dab shit
Young, high, and Black, bitch
[Verse 4: Erick the Architect]
Whoever said tricks are for kids don't know this bitch
Real nigga, vintage apparel and fake friends
Real niggas make it apparent and make ends
So I architect the future, embarrass the fake brands
Say, word, man, them niggas, they nervous too
We on the cusp or somethin', creatin' starting to brew
Making these movements, plus, you do the interlude
But I won't produce unless you nude, miss
Otherwise you useless, yes, you useless
So light a new spliff

[Verse 5: Meechy Darko]
Pop up at your funeral shirtless and spit on your hearse, bitch
The worst is, nigga, you worthless
Better off dead, so you lay in a dirt ditch
I'm better off dead cause there's zombies emergin'

Soon the ideology will be full surface
And I won't have to go back to snatching purses and yapping Urkels
Semi-automatic, leave the funeral service
Mother with runnin' mascara clutching the hearses
Dark nigga, but I never bow to the serpent
What is your purpose?
Hopefully on the crossroads, you'll learn it
That's if you earn it, that's for certain
Money on my mind, marijuana my taste buds
Young, Black and deprived so the world I shake up

Who's your maker? Look me in my eyes, nigga
Meet your maker, Meech your maker
[Verse 6: Action Bronson]
It's me, uh
From the top floor view, I can see it all
From this top floor view, I can see it all
Dawg, my bitch look like Nia Long
Dawg, my bitch look like Nia Long
They say it's lonely where I'm at
But shit, I'm quite cozy in the Jag'
They say it's lonely where I'm at
Shit, quite cozy
I'm sittin' at the outdoor desk with my pants off
FaceTimin' my little mama back in France, speakin' broken english
My golden features is the reason why they stroke my penis
When I sing songs, it's like a stroke of genius

I'm Eric Clapton in a black Benz, stack ends
You can tell my eyes are blue through the mac lens
Lord, cleanse me, for dead soldiers, pour Henny
Uh, pour it

The peppered steak was salty, but I ate it 'cause I love her
She put sugar in her vegetables, she grew up in the gutter
Tater tots with every meal, her body like a goddess
Fingers, toes are polished,
Super Sport Impalas
Red flowers, that's to signify a new start
'Cause without you, I've been living with a blue heart
Mixed emotions from the purple got me cloudy

Got me wildin', got me speeding in the Audi, in Maui
[Outro: Action Bronson]
Queens shit
Peace to my motherfuckin' brothers
Flatbush, yeah
You know we too high to die

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About

Genius Annotation

Track 10 off Better Off Dead (2013) mixtape. It’s the boys from Flatbush, Brooklyn collaborating with Bam Bam, the man from Flushing, Queens.

1.SAMPLE With your love by: Jackie Moore
2.SAMPLE Main Theme From Star Wars by: David Matthews

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