For the Leg

Lyrics
[Verse 1: Flee Lord] Ya I met her on the two train uptown back when I was on my raw game Headphones listening to Kanye, lips like Kelly Rowland, hips like Yoncé Sweatsuit and waverunners my diva for like eight summers, straight stunner Dripping steak eating like we hate hunger Rock away, broad walk, chopper and some ? Send it in a bag incase them stupid niggas want chalk Nikes in the city, sipping white living gritty This the life of a hustler and my wife with the shits Bonnies and my Clyde ain't no homi's getting tried And I don't do the clubs unless mami get inside Fuck around with Flee and you fucking with my lord, eh They searched but they don't peep the heat inside her corset Coming home to place like my momma set the table ? so clean, bout to sign her to the label [Verse 2: Chase Fetti] Put a brick in my bitch purse, and i don't count the money, give that shit to my bitch first Don't fix it if it work, shorty gone hold it down I ain't talking gas when I tell you she blow the pound Told her bout the kitchen, now she cook she be throwing down Im talking whole plates, its a blessing say I'm great Amen, my bitch riding with a strap like some gay friends Only time we play the bag is when we play Benz Or play Bens nigga, I send em with the 50 clip we break ends nigga Yeah, we the modern day Bonnie and Clyde, only thing I know for sure though is that mami gone ride Mami gone ease all my pain and fuck me outta my mind Keep all the change she ain't dropping a dime, thats my down bitch I tell her slow down shorty down shift I made her my queen cause that crown fit
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Credits
- Writers
- Chase Fetti
- Flee Lord