Zombie Files Songtext
von Rio da Yung OG

Lemme know when it drop Nuez

Alright, yeah
Ghetto Boyz shit, nigga
You know what the fuck goin′ on

I got a pint of Wock', finna start my own Zombie Files
You a plain promethazine drinker, I don′t drink crocodile
Two eights just put me on my ass, the drank knocked me out
I'm the one who keep the door open, you can't lock me out
Pint of red, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Let′s go to bed, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Four lil′ niggas with K's, I brought zombies out
Bro, meet me in the A, let′s have a Zombie File


I got a pint of Wockhardt Pharmaceuticals
Finna drink a whole ten, nigga, that's how I do it
Four, six, eight, or a twelve, wе ain′t pourin' deuces
Slide by in a Hеllcat, fishtail, then throw the deuces
Bitch really think I love her, she so delusional
Told the bitch, "You like a lighter, ho, it′s so easy to lose you"
Talkin' to a sealed pint like, "I'm finna abuse you"
You′d fuck around, get killed twice, my shooters unusual
I could drink a whole gallon by myself, I′m unhuman
I gotta drink an eight to go to sleep, 101 do it
I got a sealed pint of Actavis, a one-of-one juice kit
MCD, just drunk three threes, on my loose shit

I got a pint of Wock', finna start my own Zombie Files
You a plain promethazine drinker, I don′t drink crocodile
Two eights just put me on my ass, the drank knocked me out
I'm the one who keep the door open, you can′t lock me out
Pint of red, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Let's go to bed, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Four lil′ niggas with K's, I brought zombies out
Bro, meet me in the A, let's have a Zombie File


Fuck bein′ humble, throwin′ money in my pictures (Yeah)
Pull up to the strip club, that's just to pick my bitch up (Yeah)
Pull up to the trap and that′s just to see what's crackin′ (What's good?)
I don′t like to talk, how the fuck I ain't a rapper (Real shit)
Fuck a job, started trappin'
Too much money, started packin′
I′ll be damned, catch me lackin'
Ain′t nobody seen what happened
My bitch got a glick, don't get hit with that baby Glock
I know I had ′em mad, tell these niggas they can hate me now
Designer on my ass and I come from wearin' hand-me-downs (SG)
Pull up to the plug, give him bands, and he hand me pounds (Real shit)
Yeah, yeah, that shit make diamonds, smoke pressure (Dope)
Bitch, I′m steezy, I could style in whatever (Yeah)
Stüssy with the Prada, Felt, Balenciaga
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Shoo, fly, small fry, you don't bother me (You don't bother me)
Shut the mall down like it′s Dollar Tree (Like it′s nothin', nigga)
Benihana like it′s Wendy's (Cash Only)

I got a pint of Wock′, finna start my own Zombie Files
You a plain promethazine drinker, I don't drink crocodile
Two eights just put me on my ass, the drank knocked me out
I′m the one who keep the door open, you can't lock me out
Pint of red, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Let's go to bed, bitch, we finna have Zombie Files
Four lil′ niggas with K′s, I brought zombies out
Bro, meet me in the A, let's have a Zombie File