In this track, Yung Bans delves into a world where opulence and indulgence converge with a hedonistic lifestyle, revealing the artist's complex relationship with wealth and drugs. The lyrics illustrate a narrative dominated by luxury, substance abuse, and fleeting romantic encounters. The recurring theme of being a "Prada zombie" symbolizes a state of numbness and detachment, induced by materialism and narcotics. Moreover, Yung Bans portrays himself as invincible, flexing his wealth and dismissing adversaries, yet subtly acknowledging the emptiness that accompanies his high-flying existence. The track serves as a vivid depiction of the highs and lows of youthful excess in a modern, material-driven society. #Materialism #Hedonism
PRADA ZOMBIE
Lyrics
And I got a Glock for the shooter
Pull up on Lil Uzi, she gon' give the coochie, huh
Young rich nigga, I knew it
Young rich nigga, she said, "I knew it" (yeah)
All these drugs that I'm on take my soul and my body
I'm a young rich nigga, bitch, I'm a Prada zombie
Laid up with your bitch, kick it, eatin' calamari
Shorty suck me so good, don't even get me started
Shit on these niggas, I'm sorry, not sorry
Droppin' the top, I'ma flex in the 'Rari
I am so off of this Earth, I'm a martian
Smashin' this ho, she a thot, she a Barbie
I ain't even showin' no love, niggas ain't showin' no love to us
And I'm on all these drugs, pop one, sip some, mix it up
Hottest young nigga in the sun, say you want smoke, I'll never run
She already know from the jump, bitch, I am the chosen one
Brand new chopper got kickback, kickback (yeah)
All inside her mouth like a Tic-Tac, Tic-Tac (yeah)
Drip on my body cost ten racks, mismatch
Kill a nigga mama, guns up, yeah, click-clack
Put some money on my head, tell your shooter get that shit back
How the fuck you think you street, lil' nigga? You's a real rat
Convertible Masi', the top, it gon' peel back
Niggas tell in they rappin', no, I cannot feel that
Made up your mind, I lose it
Glock .40 shootin', blood just oozin', huh
Put a lil' bitch in some Pucci
Know she a groupie, I just want coochie
Hit her in the backseat listening to Uzi
I just wan' fuck her if shorty could use me
Dior my demin, no, I don't wear Nudy
soon as I get the money, I abuse it
All these drugs that I'm on take my soul and my body
I'm a young rich nigga, bitch, I'm a Prada zombie
Laid up with your bitch, kick it, eatin' calamari
Shorty suck me so good, don't even get me started
Shit on these niggas, I'm sorry, not sorry
Droppin' the top, I'ma flex in the 'Rari
I am so off of this Earth, I'm a martian
Smashin' this ho, she a thot, she a Barbie
I ain't even showin' no love, niggas ain't showin' no love to us
And I'm on all these drugs, pop one, sip some, mix it up
Hottest young nigga in the sun, say you want smoke, I'll never run
She already know from the jump, bitch, I am the chosen one
Writer(s): Vas Coleman
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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