Flatbush Zombies

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Erick Arc Elliott]
The rhyme is so raw, most these rappers need a seminar
You copy the same schematics, you making the same songs
You thought that you were the only, but understand it's the physical
Artistry manifest, but no ideas original
Our sickest creation, no need for further analysis
Plus the beats bang prestige giving me calluses
Even if it's assumed, proving it all again
Selling out all the shows never selling out who I am
Mild temper venter, chronic keep me casual
Formally introduced to a journey into the natural
The three, two zeros then proceeded by one
Laced like your woven tennis shoes before you go run
Danger danger, Will Robinson
There's a crisis here, nappy ain't dirty
Racist man it's just a type of hair
Nightmares have just begun, there's no enticing him
Limbs relaxed, but your music pop like a Vicodin

[Hook: Eric Arc Elliott]
R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits
Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love the boosted speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be
R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits
Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love to boost the speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be
[Verse 2: Zombie Juice]
Smoke smoke drip sip sip sip
Eyes closed like I missed this
No forgiveness, just a sick bitch
Cause I'm under destruction what is this?
Just a young nigga ready to get this
If I fall on my face, you're my witness
Feast on my blood when I leave this
Dimension I'm starting to think that
This world is lost like a sea ship
Walking to hell with the demons
How can the heavens defeat them?
Sometimes I just wanna, leave 'em
This feeling is something, I can't run
I just wanna be where I came from
I'm never gon' see where I came from
Rest in peace to the game son
Brooklyn baby reborn
Tripping up, you lukewarm
This is like a warning Flatbush swarming Nike shoes on
Prove them critics wrong getting cream bitch I love it
And the fans hold us down, put nothing above it

[Hook: Eric Arc Elliott]
R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits
Cause new computer ship without the means to play the shit
We love the boosted speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be used to be, used to be
[Verse 3: Meechy Darko]
The wickedest, man on fire the new Richard Pryor
The wicked lit, rubber on my dick
'Cause I don't want that Charlie Sheen shit
Please don't say you're the highest until you met your highness
I just, want the head like ISIS
Fuck her so precise her pussy gushing like a geyser
I'm Michael Myers with these grip pliers took off your eyelids
I sit in silence, speak in tongues and burned Bibles
So paletted to all of my rivals you will not vanquish my titles
My semi-automatic, will splatter a nigga like Jackson Pollock
Deranged since birth I was conceived in an insane asylum
I solemnly swear this evening to refrain from the violence
Young and wilding, psilocybin still my stylist
LSD drops in my iris, tire mark, police sirens
No guidance, the belly of the beast is where I reside in
Grimy and vibrant like Busta Rhymes, in the early 90's
Click boom, your head blew like you play for the Giants
Lyrical tyrant the way I be rhyming
I deserve all of the Pulitzer prizes my pistol be hiding I pull it surprise 'em
My voice can be hypnotizing every verse I deliver be vivid and visually striking
Been the highest since I arrived and the climate is rising
It's 'bout to get violent cover your eye
And take this lyrical dosage that Doctor Meechy Dark prescribed ya
I slide inside her I love her tight vagina no E-Z Widers
Back to the cypher I got chronic to light up pass me the lighter
[Hook: Eric Arc Elliott]
R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits
Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love the boosted speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to beused to be,used to be
R.I.P. to the CD can't even play my hits
Cause new computers ship without the means to play the shit
We love to boost the speed
We love the memory
It got me feeling like we're nothing like we used to be

If you're a music lover who has been around for a while, you might have noticed a significant shift in the way we consume music. Gone are the days of physical CDs being the primary source of our favorite tunes. Now, streaming and downloads have taken over. The industry is rapidly moving towards a digital landscape, leaving physical mediums behind. The Flatbush Zombies, in their album Laced Odyssey, pay tribute to the now almost obsolete Compact Disk with their track R.I.P.C.D.

R.I.P.C.D., the third track off Laced Odyssey, serves as both a eulogy and a play on words. It mourns the loss of the Compact Disk era while also honoring Capital Steez, otherwise known as Courtney Dewar, a rapper and founding member of the Pro Era collective. The dedication reads "R.est I.n P.eace C.ourtney D.ewar," cleverly using the acronym R.I.P.C.D. to pay homage to both the fading medium and the late artist.

As music consumption trends shift towards streaming and digital downloads, artists like Kanye West have declared their abandonment of physical CDs. Kanye's refusal to release his music on CDs again and Time Magazine's declaration of the "last nail in the CD's coffin" marked a significant turning point in the industry. The once prominent medium of the Compact Disk has now become a relic of the past, fading away as technology advances.

With R.I.P.C.D., the Flatbush Zombies capture the essence of this transition. They reflect upon the changing times where CDs were an integral part of the music industry, now giving way to digital platforms that bring music right into the palms of our hands. The song encapsulates the complex emotions associated with this paradigm shift, stirring up nostalgia while acknowledging the inevitability of progress.

About R.I.P.C.D.

R.I.P.C.D. is a poignant track that showcases Flatbush Zombies' artistic prowess and their ability to capture the essence of a cultural shift. The lyrics provide a powerful commentary on the importance of adaptability and the transient nature of technology.

Building upon the eulogy theme, the song begins with somber piano chords that set a melancholic tone. As the track progresses, haunting synths and ethereal melodies create an atmosphere of reflection. Meechy Darko, Zombie Juice, and Erick Arc Elliott's intertwining verses then take center stage, navigating between the nostalgia for physical CDs and the inevitability of progress.

The lyrics are masterfully crafted, using metaphors and wordplay to convey their messages. The phrase "R.I.P.C.D." works on multiple levels, as it mourns the decline of the Compact Disk while also paying tribute to the late Capital Steez. This clever wordplay adds depth to the song, allowing listeners to unravel its layers of meaning with each listen.

• Release Date: March 10, 2016
• Artist: Flatbush Zombies