Private Island (feat. F3NIX)

(Yeah man, still the same ****)

(Huh)

(Yeah)

I serve the work, then double up

I was hustlin', clutching

**** fakin' like they thugging, they just puppets

I'm the one who pulls the strings

Remember ain't have shit to eat

Now my **** eat like kings

Steak and lobster

Money, women, power

AR came with the double D's and that bitch silenced

They like, "Zeke, please don't resort to violence"

Need a private island, get away, and clear a **** mind

Bodies piled up, a problem child

Comply or get found

Six-feet in the ground

I'm hot, and you **** mild

Pops told me, "Keep goin' crazy"

They tryna sedate me

I majored in pain, just like Damon Wayans

They tryna pick my brain

But even with all of my knowledge, we could never be the same

You fuckin' lames, need to learn to stay up in your fuckin' lane

She wanna kick it like Liu Kang

Said I'm smokin' that new strain

That's your dawg? Can't get him back

He was talkin' crazy, put an end to that

Plenty of straps in the Scat

Try to run and get a hole in ya' back

Now you lookin' just like Ricky

Got these pussy **** sick and tired, tryna wire up

Bitch I knew that you was schemin', you know I'm a demon

F.N. inside of a Neiman's

Street sweeper, with the key to the streets

Music my only release

Fuck a judge, jury, and the police

Best believe that the rest of these **** look patethic comparin' to Zeke

Man, you ain't never sold, or made three rolls

Serve two pounds of that K-roll

Take one shot of my chopstick, no Chinese, but it's case closed

Got clients, different time zones

New colors in my bankroll

Yeah, same shit, I need to buy in

That new dope, but I sell those

Talk snake shit

Heard there was fake bitches in clique

Man, you shittin' where you eat

Bro got roaches on his dish, and that's that lame shit

Fuck that, brodie tweakin' off a zip

Big bro tried to fuckin' test me

Bitch, you know I ace that shit, and that's on God

Yeah