Zen - Clipse

Is it them blings that make em watch us?

The awkward lean and them cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money say

Hands got the bubble touch, bike with the double clutch

Two diamond jump ropes, my neck do the double dutch

Give a fuck about such and such

On behalf of the Re-Up Gang, I’m saying enough’s enough

Turn it, turn it, fire, burn it

Gram weight straight like a nigga just permed it

Pyrex and water, playa, how I earns it

Lame rap niggas I’m so not concerned with

On another level, my third bezel, my fourth gas pedal

55 on the back, I’m a daredevil

The course is paved, the watch is pavé

You niggas gotta love me, I’m something the lord made

I got-gots to do it, do it

VVS, my jewelry don’t need no jury

To find me guilty, I stay gaudy

Pockets bulky, how can y’all fault me?

Ghost-ride it driver, what that mean?

You’re small, welly, nigga fuck that beam, Us that team

Touch that cream, digital scale, what’s that scheme?

(It's all real) Don’t touch that thing (Fake!)

Niggas faces get flattened and clapped-in

Squad want action, Re-run, What’s Happening?

Every episode, the Tec exposed, Gotti body

Tsunami mamis, it’s gotta be why they watching

Is it them blings that make em watch us?

The awkward lean and them cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money say

Zen zen zen zen zen zen, zen zen zen

Zen zen zen zen zen zen (Getting money say)

Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen

Zen zen, zen zen zen z-z-zen

Now how that forearm glow on 'em, feeling so grown on 'em

I pitch work sorta like Nomo on 'em

Snow on 'em, cover my tracks, low on 'em

So on 'em, streets I, push blow on 'em

The car drop with the soft top like whoas on 'em

Rolls on 'em, go on 'em, I’m striking a pose on 'em

No opponent can come close, match tone on it

Flow on it, honed on it, I’m feeling that home owned it

It’s Liva, the rider, the man, they hang clothes on 'em

With the belt, the matching shoes, the G soles on 'em

I’m classic, the plastic got Os on 'em

I rolls on 'em, the self-murder doors close on 'em

Yeah, good gosh a-mighty

All we do is cook raw, push cars like Whitey

Like a moth to a flame it’s so inviting

To opposite sexes, the stones, so precious

Still in the Resi G4 Valieire

No diamond in that bezzi, I get grown-er every year

Pay me for that feature, that don’t make it family

All is see is blackface and you singing «Mammy»

I’m from the old school when the Gat was a jammy

Twin four-fifths, the resemblance is uncanny

I bust both in sync, y’all niggas hear me

Now that’s what I call the Big Bang Theory

Is it them blings that make em watch us?

The awkward lean and them cars that’s topless

I got them things, I cut and chop it

I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money say

Zen zen zen zen zen zen, zen zen zen

Zen zen zen zen zen zen (Getting money say)

Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen

Zen zen, zen zen zen z-z-zen