Butcher Lords Flee Lord (Ft. Benny the Butcher)

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