Lyrics Marcus Smart - Flee Lord, Stove God Cooks

Marcus Smart

Okay, okay
Uh-huh, okay, okay
I like this beat right here, uh-huh
Let me drum (Lord, Lord)
Top down, lettin' the sun in up the 110 (Skrrt)
Chopper in hands that’ll make a nigga 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)
Shit’s scary, thirty-six shots up in the six sries (Brrt)
Play near me, patch ovr 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 shit to death (I'm killin' it with
fashion, motherfucker)
Man, I’m killin' it with fashion, in designer shit to death
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 shit 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 niggas still in the field, I got busy this year
Stop hatin', nigga, you see it
Buck fifty on your face now, nigga, 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