🎵 Zen // by Re-Up Gang

17 ContributorsZen Lyrics This song was originally intended to be on the Clipse’s sophomore album, Hell Hath No Fury, but after the incessant album delays it was one of the many songs cut from it as the duo decided to give the album… Read More  [Chorus: Pusha T] Is it them blings that make them watch us? The awkward lean and 'em cars that’s topless I got them things, I cut and chop it I sell that ostrich, I’m so obnoxious, getting money, say— [Verse 1: Pusha T & Sandman] 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, "'Nough’s enough" Turn it, turn it—fire, burn it Gram weight straight like a nigga just permed it Pyrex and water, player—how I earns it Lame rap niggas, I’m so not concerned with On another level, my third bezel, my fourth gas pedal Fifty-five 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 (Yeah-ah, can-non) [Verse 2: Sandman] 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, that gotta be why they watching [Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman] Is it them blings that make them watch us? The awkward lean and 'em 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 zen zen (You're getting money, say—) Zen z-zen, zen zen, zen zen Zen zen, zen zen zen zen-zen-zen-zen [Verse 3: Ab-Liva] Now, how that forearm glow on 'em Feeling so grown on 'em I pitch work, sort of 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 Bose 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 at home on 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 O's on 'em I rolls on 'em, the self-murder doors close on 'em [Verse 4: Malice] 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 Rezzy, G4, or Lear No diamond in that bezzy, 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-fifs: The resemblance is uncanny I bust both in sync—y’all niggas hear me Now that’s what I call "the big bang theory" [Chorus: Pusha T & Sandman] Is it them blings that make them watch us? The awkward lean and 'em 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