Flee Lord - Marcus Smart lyrics

[Intro: Flee Lord] Okay, okay Uh-huh, okay, okay I like this beat right here, uh-huh Let me drum (Lord, Lord) [Verse 1: Flee Lord] Top down, lettin' the sun in up the 110 (Skrrt) Chopper in hands that'll make a ni**a lungs spin Cruisin' up the coast, yeah, they choosin' us the most (The most) Takeover's complete, I'm usin' music just to boast (Uh-huh) Violent fool, straight up bar masters in my talent pool Nonchalant attitude (Huh), bounce around in Malibu (Woo) Legends tappin' in, hot weapons by the Benz (Brrt) Lord, I used to cook the coke and now I chef inside my pen (Whip) Sippin' Gatorade and Henny, why you twistin' up the skinny? Dyin' 'cause you lyin' and you livin' just to envy (Haha) sh*t's scary, thirty-six shots up in the six sеries (Brrt) Play near me, patch ovеr eye like I'm Nick Fury (Boom, boom, boom) Promises is kept, been shinin' since the 'jects And I'm killin' it with fashion, in designer sh*t to death (I'm killin' it with fashion, motherfu*ker) Man, I'm killin' it with fashion, in designer sh*t to death [Verse 2: Stove God Cooks] A young boy screw loose (Uh-huh), they done stripped the bolts on 'em Shoulda never sent him to pick up the work for me Sprayed the park and had my sh*t inside the car Marcus Smart, boy, was shootin' with a thirty-six on 'em (Brrt) Said if he wasn't in a rush, they was all goners TEC cursive on the chest, he was gon' Sean John 'em They were sleepin' on the God, then it dawned on 'em (What?) My mic game different, I'm Bob Barker (Woo) My wrist spin like the wheel My ni**as still in the field, I got busy this year Stop hatin', ni**a, you see it Buck fifty on your face now, ni**a, you seal The John Geigers is teal Strings wrap your ankles, when I think back, I'm thankful 'Cause the first hit I made was with the bakin' soda Apron over the Yves Saint Laurent with the AP on 'em Last bricks I had, they stamped the Bad Boy baby on 'em Stove