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letra de lord of the grammys - flee lord

[intro: flee lord]
this sh-t sound like a 70’s hit
aviators, i don’t know
i can’t even hit ’em with a grrr
nah, aye

[verse one: flee lord]
lord knows
pop a bottle with some pain
let’s celebrate life, reminiscing about the nights
lord was moving the white
i used to hustle on the back block (back block)
with the have-nots (have-nots)
with the white rock
from a black pot
keep a smile in the face of the struggle
the d’s around you, they hate when we bubble
in the rain or the sleet
spill pain on the beat (whip it)
hear my name on repeat
lord came with the heat (salute)
bicoastal with the flow
you local n-ggas know
respect me at my sets
approach me at my shows (grrr)
blow a couple zips
take a couples fl!cks
back stage practicing, rehearsing all my hits
cl!cking at the merch tables, city and manny (my brothers)
we don’t always speak, but my n-ggas is family (i be your chef)
flee lord, i’m about to pick up a grammy
call both 40’s, have them pick up the shwammy (boom boom boom)

[chrous: flee lord]
we all on the same page, in a different book
links in a chain man, bars in a hook
i’m about to pick up a grammy
we don’t always speak, but my n-ggas is family (huh)
you ain’t gotta call my mother f-cking phone
we don’t always speak, but my n-ggas is family
we all on the same page, in a different book
links in a chain man, bars in a hook

[verse 2: flee lord]
we connect on the gram
big respect for the fam
little brodie in the can, he was just on a lamb
what’s the point of billboard
balenci with the trench (i see you)
i’m k!lling ever track lord miss me with the tips
machine told me take over, p know we straight soldiers
ain’t tokers, great rollers, paper like we ain’t folders
check my discography, i’m top of the shelf
8 drops in one year, got a pops in myself
flee, i used to fry at hard, now i use my dialogue
trying bars, feel it in your spirit, or inside your car
feature after feature
eating out your speakers
violate my sp-ce
i’m a beat you out your sneakers
fresh off the hood run
bad coke and good guns
don’t get it confused
you moving with some bruised lungs
break bread, no crumbs, shake feds, no bums
n-gga i’m moving to lord’s, i ain’t afraid of no guns

[outro: flee lord]
you know what i’m talking about
you ain’t gotta call my phone all the mother f-cking time, b
sh-t, just show n-ggas some support or something, b
you know what i’m saying
i know we good man, i stand tall
my loyalty is real
and i f-ck with all the real rights you heard
we on our sh-t though
told you i got you my n-gga, aye

- flee lord

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