This is a song about "Zombie apocalypse"

Nostradamus couldn't predict this lyrical apocalypse.

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

They said to prepare for zombie apocalypse,

Cause the media is full of dirty tricks

Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string

But i'm just a talking head, a zombie floating

Fed to his pet zombie, ted!

If you ain’t got ‘em, then bob your head

And if that means that i'm askin for too much

Rise up like a zombie and eat these fuckers for lunch

So dope i've got the apocalypse on my laptop

We the squad, young folarin, out that maybach mob

Big red creature with a six pack of the apocalypse

Oooo your booty so thick behind them juicy ass lips

Zombie ill fucking bite tuechie,bum rush his ass like a groupie,

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see