Dead Man Walking – Song and Lyrics by 2 Chainz

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Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Dead Man Walking’ by 2 Chainz. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 2 Chainz or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking (Buddah bless this beat)
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking (Tony)
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking

She got a straight pin walkin’
I got the dead men flockin’
I got the hand-held rocket
I never count a man pocket
I get through the red tape
I’m ’bout to race a red Wraith
Dressed every day like the red carpet
I’m showin’ growth, had to dreadlock it
I get long neck, ostrich
I take a sexy thing shopping
I’m doin’ everything, bossin’
I’m smokin’ Mary Jane, flossin’
I got the sauce like teriyaki
Kickin’ my shit like Texas Walker
You and your homie are the same target
Put you both in the same coffin
South L Schwartz, nigga
Strong pay, Porsche killer
Klepto, hoe-stealer
Highlights, SportsCenter
Big money, no feelings
Big car, no ceiling
Big deal, big wheelin’
Richard Mille, six figures

I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
Yeah

Vintage Rolex, Redd Foxx
Pussy soak, the bed rock
Made the coke pop lock
Yeah turned hard rock
Push up on ya exotic, uh huh
I got codeine in my body, uh huh
I put tattoos on my body, uh huh
Richard Mille cost a Bugatti, uh huh
Ain’t had no sheets on the bed
I would just club her to death
Hopped on the G4
The stewardess gave me head
Chi chi, woo
I know how to change my voice
Finna rob me a nigga
Brrt, give it up
Know how to hold that fork and Pyrex
Pack and pick it up, hmm hmm
I keep the fives, the tens, the fifties
The hundreds, the slices of bread
Yeah, my chains, they hit in the head
I still got linked-up, yeah, yeah
Talkin’ to my main bitch
Gettin’ my dick sucked, yeah, yeah
Plug talk, quarter brick, bricked up, aye

I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
I see dead men walking
Yeah