Butcher Lords

Flee:

Brr, Lord

Let me catch my drift, ah

Roll a big chopper

While the ride getting wiped down

The white I got right now

Will turn your wife light-brown

Fried rice and picken wings

Islam writes a different thing

Bust it on the countertop

Your moms trying to lick it clean (damn)

This that Calderón (Frank meth goth fish?)

Type shit

So much that

My friend's getting (right wrists?)

Three AM on the corner, I’ll be standing like this

On the real? You're the nail

That the hammer might hit

(Brr) We the Loyalty or Death dog, it's more than a slogan (yup)

Violate the terms, bro, your jaw’s getting broken

Y'all are party for the weekend, straws in the ocean

Hoarse coarse is the commotion

Slow pourin' up some lotion (come here lord)

Pardon a jacuzzi-shit, foggin' up some Gucci's

Need a bed and a pussy

(?? ??) enough to suit me

In the kitchen with The Butcher

Benny fixing up some cooked stuff (Lord)

Trying to kick the door, we gon' hit you while ya foot up (boom)

Bars for the high, getting charged for your lives

Quit massaging the ride, that go (??) from my side

Cause nowadays niggas getting parked by their pride

Clouthunters outfront, while the smart boy's inside

Benny:

You know I only fuck with my niggas

You know what I mean?

I don't fuck with those niggas, because those niggas’ not my niggas!

Yo, haha

Twinnies’ got my block popping (a-huh)

Album's got my stock rising

Before police state, we saved grace

Over hotpockets, uh (I fathered)

The word at the bureau (uh)

I got out free, and I’m thorough (facts)

Pushed that dope-money and ran them with

I go spoil my little girl (get at Flee nigga)

They rolled up in them Accuras

And there I was imagining

And years later them packages turned us into manufacturers (that rock)

I stand and watch paid rich-niggas go broke

They wasn't stacking it (how you do that?)

Start relaxing and got knocked with a book full of adresses (uhh)

You be with the linked kids

I be with the bosses in offices

With the big wigs (that's right)

Torture you where your bitch lives (that's right)

They say I need my head scanned

Was quiet as a dead man

Walking in and out of Def Jam

Like me and Paul best friends (hahaha)

Married the game, and split the money with the best-man (it’s your boy)

Walked up in Saxon's and spent three racks on headbands (on headbands nigga)

I don't play it sweet with these rappers

I never met, fam (who you?)

Say you used to sleep by your ratchet

Now what's a pen-pen (Brr)

Pussy (duh duh duh)

The Butcher coming nigga! Hah

Ayo Flee, you know how we do nigga (whad up my nigga)

Griselda, The Loyalty or Death (whad up my nigga)

The Mobb Up, BSF nigga

You know how this shit go nigga

Let's go