Zombie Land

[Verse 1: Circa 87] Damn, tricking is a treat partner Every beat drops and I spit to see profit It’s a bitch to be honest But I got to listen to Christopher Wallace More money, more problems, more dummies, more zombies More blood sucking hoes on my jock piece Funny how “oh no”s turn into “probably”s But the SoCo lowering my eyelids And when I smoke Dro, paranoia dives in Then SoHo turns into Thriller Everyone’s a freak and thoughts become violent Off with their heads To these industry freaks, I’m Shaun of the Dead Thriller on repeat is this song in my head Feel the songs beat, what I want but instead Bubblegum bums only want candy Everyday’s Halloween, trying to win Grammys I want longevity, pop songs stressing me Pop, I’ll never be Honeys see me and they drop jaws And they sink fangs in my neck, sharp claws in my back ’87 with the songs on the tech Every beat knock, shacking freaks off of our backs [Hook: Circa 87 & G-Eazy] Don’t you be surprised, when our dough begins to rise And I open up my eyes, and they all transform on me Yeah it feels good when the song starts now Till you go and find out what this shit is about Watch it all transform when these stars turn goblins The shit is all the same, more money, more problems [Verse 2: G-Eazy] Look around and all these zombies wanna get me I try and stay clear, but the virus won’t affect me Cuz I was born like Blade And bad guys follow on my path like a braid And people wanna chase me, and then wonder why I can’t speak You were an ordinary stranger to me last week And now you’re hunting me down, you got me ducking around Last week I was something to clown Look, bitches all wanna transform fast I rap for them, that'll get their pants down fast They all back stage waiting for me to chill They wanna fuck just to have a story to tell, real And when they know you’re a star They wanna play the card Trying hard because they horny as hell, yeah She said she won’t but she will If fame was a pill, I’d pop too much and get killed People overdosing on it, I’m immune to it I just take a beat and put a spoon to it Eat it up and chew through it, munch down Just as soon as I touchdown, in the studio that means doom to it I take instrumentals and murder them in cold blood And spit complex patterns like an old rug If you ain’t about getting down, then it’s no fun The freaks coming out at night, when there’s no sun [Hook] [Circa 87] Yeah, more money, more problems Yeah, more money, more problems Yeah, more money, more problems The shit is all the same More money, more problems Yeah, more money, more problems Yeah, more money, more problems Yeah, more money, more problems The shit is all the same More money, more problems [Hook] Don’t you be surprised when our dough begins to rise And I open up my eyes, and they all transform on me On me, on me, on me, yeah