Lyrics

[Intro] Check check, 1,2 1,2 check Microphone check 1,2 Yo yo yo 1,2 check check check 1,2 yo yo yo Cut me a check [Verse] Pass it to the homie on the couch Yellowstone room homie welcome to the south Bringing up a check calling to collect Studio love, got the jewels on the couch What's that all about Holler baby shout You know we Butcher Brown and we finna turn it out You know you can not do without me the medicine in your brain Without the intermission high King Butch coming like a freight train in the left lane 150 miles an hour kind of insane Real shit man Me belying higher octane with the big man can't cut string Obtain every title known to man So everybody in the world know my name African to the death With an S on my chest, a no brainer Not fit for containers Get it or get out but homie just make a decision Looking through the prism for the intermission Fuck hoping and wishing Yo we designed for the grind Mind sent soldiers holding on the front line We took the beast and mixed it with the savage And put the shit in a soup I got habits that's mad lavish Remembered all the homies that they told me you could have it Cause you could have it with the sweat from your neck And a self placed bet in the mirror Stand tall my nigga your dreams on your shoulders A hundred million lashes but you know they couldn't hold us They overworked and undersold us With a bag full of fries and some sugar soda Even with the blueprint they know they can't decode us As I peel out with a beautiful in the yellow Lotus I stay focused and stay close with all the homies from the ville I keep it real You know the deal Tennishu Butcher Brown King Butch Best band in the world