Correction Lyrics 4th Quarter by Flee Lord

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Lyrics

Don't mind me
Uh
Let that man get pa**ed
Ay yo

This beat smell like a trench coat, obey the code
It gets colder when you come around coyote's cousins
Calamity unfortunate to suffer consequences
Over sh*t that never really wasn't, you f**king cowards
The game turn sour, shower me in fake compliments
Compete in secret, jealousy is a weakness
N***as try to disarm you in a plot to harm you
The upper crust be the flakiest, I must alarm you
Bullet wound aesthetics believers, atheists
Ricochet, hit your gallbladder, shatter ya pancreas
Don't make me compromise my position
'Cause honestly, you rapper n***as not in no position
To joust, my circle small like a momma house
You n***as small time, Willie the all-time great
F**k the small talk, from the generating small fortunes
To big fish in a small pound, no small portions
Pour champagne, cop Porsches, hang portraits
Until my name start popping up on your Forbes list
Gorgeous, moving accordingly, you outta order
I cut the ribbon brick and mortar 4th quarter

For my physical, we pop Motu Viget early
The human highlight, I'm SportsCenter replay worthy
Don't worry, my sturdy
It wasn't tampered, my jersey hung in rafters
Your lineage that of n***as who hustle backwards, yo
My training method got my brain respected
By prize fighters, bright thinkers, they Einsteins
The snakes lie where that fine line was
Between the love and hatred
A life's taken so your gun is sacred
Fine diner, how my lunch is plated
Snapple with the sauce and verde
I'm on my third plate, superb word play, yes
I turned the block into my workplace, I tax per day
I'm throwing stacks at my b*t*h bag
Whoa, that's a lump in the clutch
Wax bags and rubbers bands, bundles and up
The top is the bottom of my peak
Overseer, Supreme Being

This sh*t sound like connect theme music
I'm a push my pen long as mu bread keep moving
In the red seats cruising, I just left East Houston
Trying to put the play together, but the dreads keep shooting
Lord mob, my code name, hot as propane
On the stove range
My kind of music drives its own lane
Through the knowledge, grown man, we buy our own land
Hijack it and we trap it, we just pirates on sand
Breaking off the plates and shaking off the drugs
We just baking raw cake and let the whole club taste it
Bars on display like a scar on your face
Book Flee for a session, get charged for the day
Approach like a wold when he wanted the deer
And shot a five in your head, I put tunes in your ear
Yo, I be looking at the future, they be choosing to stare
Put that ray off the page, I be using my fears
Doing projects in a week that'll take 'em a year
N***a, you feet fell asleep 'cause you was glued to the chair
Pu**y
N***a

I said your feet fell asleep 'cause you was glued to the chair
What the f**k is up Wo
Appreciate you King
We got work to do
Lord mob

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