ZOOTED - Peysoh & Icewear Vezzo: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Peysoh & Icewear Vezzo

ZOOTED

412

Hip-Hop/Rap

ZOOTED was released on July 25, 2025 by Peysoh / EMPIRE as a part of the album FinallyFed

Song Details

AlbumFinallyFed

Release DateJuly 25, 2025

LabelPeysoh / EMPIRE

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM80

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Peysoh

Vocals

Icewear Vezzo

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Kevin Oropeza

Songwriter

Chives Smith

Songwriter

Cristal Viramontes

Cristal Viramontes

Arranger

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Diego Ave

Producer

Cristal Viramontes

Cristal Viramontes

Recording Engineer

Nick Bane

Mixing Engineer

Gage Lane

Recording Engineer

Lyrics

[Intro]

D-Diego

[Chorus]

Perkies on me, bitch, I'm zooted

Every pistol got like thirty-some and we gon' use it

I ain't actin' for it, bitch, we funk for real, came off a deuce

He gon' act like brodie steppin', hang with us and scared to shoot

'Cause we don't do attempt, light the city up when it's 'bout beef

Give a fuck who sayin' what 'cause all my rabbits shoot 'bout me

Walk down and slam his ass, yeah, that kick could change the way he speak

I don't care if that's your bitch 'cause over me, she sellin' cheeks

[Verse 1]

And I done dipped in foreign coupes, I done did that Prezzy buss

I done washed you down on feet and I done passed for eighty-plus

I done smashed you for a brick, I left shit leaking if they muggin'

I done hit y'all one-step bitches, I done blew shit off with cups

Go 'head and spank 'em then

All that woofin', bust your move

Rollie AP, Franco Cuban, Cartis, foreign hoes and coupes

Gucci, Louis, Fendi, Prada, I'm a junkie for them tags

Dead bitch, I'ma pile 'em, go and ask, yeah, we spinnin' for sure

Feel like a Crip, I barely trust my blood, bitch, go hit the bottle

Don't you ask if you can hit my cup

Hey bae, I'm zooted, please don't mind the mood

She like, "Boy, you only come for pussy," yeah, that's kinda true

Actin' brokenhearted 'bout that bitch, I thought you kinda knew

He said, "That burner clean?" I told him, "Yeah," but it was kinda used

Fuck that testimony, hate that roommate, get no kinda clue

If you ain't tryna fuck, then beat the block 'cause, bitch, I'm kinda rude

I'm young as fuck, richer than my opps, don't ask her why she choosin'

Huskies with me trippin', get too close, they snatch you out your Cuban

Hey, brodie, chill, we almost killed a fan

We gon' sell this work, run through your spot, can't clean no pots and pans

[Chorus]

Perkies on me, bitch, I'm zooted

Every pistol got like thirty-some and we gon' use it

I ain't actin' for it, bitch, we funk for real, came off a deuce

He gon' act like brodie steppin', hang with us and scared to shoot

'Cause we don't do attempt, light the city up when it's 'bout beef

Give a fuck who sayin' what 'cause all my rabbits shoot 'bout me

Walk down and slam his ass, yeah, that kick could change the way he speak

I don't care if that's your bitch 'cause over me, she sellin' cheeks

[Verse 2]

I like choppers, I like MACs, I like Wock' mixed with Act' (Yeah)

Don't like hoes who playin' sides, ain't got no opps 'cause we get back

I like 'Raris, I like 'Vettes, I like droppers when they bent (Bitch)

I got strikers, I got cats, a brand new Cullinan, a new 'Vette (Yeah)

Know for sure they ain't know shit, bro came home and caught two hats (Yeah)

All that clout'll get shit whacked, you gon' get knocked, you always lack

Made two milli' in my sleep, I got chili just like meats (Big man)

Spent 150 on my teeth, all white ice, look like sheets (Cool)

Pop a thizzy, I be geeked, hit the Rizzy in two weeks

Stuffed 250 in my seat, Richard Mille, Rolls in peach

Count a thousand up in hunds, all the choppas come with drums (Yeah)

Spin that drop, this shit be fun, bitch, I'm on a ten-year run (For real?)

Got more dog shit than your cuz, money older than your son (Bitch)

I pop Percs and I pour mud, purple Rover on 21s, ****

[Chorus]

Perkies on me, bitch, I'm zooted

Every pistol got like thirty-some and we gon' use it

I ain't actin' for it, bitch, we funk for real, came off a deuce

He gon' act like brodie steppin', hang with us and scared to shoot

'Cause we don't do attempt, light the city up when it's 'bout beef

Give a fuck who sayin' what 'cause all my rabbits shoot 'bout me

Walk down and slam his ass, yeah, that kick could change the way he speak

I don't care if that's your bitch 'cause over me, she sellin' cheeks

Written by: Chives Smith, Kevin Oropeza

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