Higher Self (feat. T.F & Flee Lord)

Uh, yo
Money to spoil whores with the spoils of war
But the only bitch I know loyal is a dog
Most must be avoided at all costs
'Cause with certain lines you cross, ain't no settlin' in court
Fuck you thought? This sauce ain't store-bought
Gotta be born with this sort of blowtorch
The forty blow you and your cohort off the porch (Blat)
For the small price of what a cup of coffee costs
Uh, you see we popped
You broke, so you takin' cheap shots, rockin' G-Shocks
I ain't even shocked, you need to watch, we're on demon time
Even when I'm inside Neiman's gettin' fly
You cryin' for a piece of the pie, I just want peace of mind
These the simple things currency can't buy
The treasure is buried in the sky, not protected by leprechauns
The queen rests her head on my chest to cry (It's okay, baby)
I know you love to ear-hustle
Can't trust if you keep things between us two (Shh)
No keepin' secrets if we a couple
Sneak disses, I heard a couple, it's beneath me like a sneaker bubble
Any rebuttal better be subtle
What's done is done, no one was born with a stunt double, uh
'Cause I'll put every last one of you under the rubble

Dirty Rugers, duckin' the state troopers
Green tip Lugers, they tracers, you can't lose 'em
Desert Eagle, triangle face, it's the Bermuda
It leave eardrums ringin', it's therapeutic
All my bitches speak Spanish and eat arugula
And reenact pornos, that's all I do with 'em
No cap, yeah, that's true enough
Coke white, Range Rover with the ruby guts
I played the spot and let the hours rush
Four hands, four tellers, that's a power punch
I'm a pioneer;, y'all fraudulent, like veneers
Gunpowder residue, deadly when mixed with tears
Yeah, I'm overzealous, urban legend, that's over years
Everything scandalous, hope that don't go over heads
Beach hammocks, plottin' on overheads
Excuse my French, bitch, this European Benz
Excuse the tint, bitch, these European lenses
Baccarat, that's a European fragrance
Luxurious, puttin' skeletons in my basement
Lord Mobb, mob ties, free Pappy Mason

[Verse 3: Flee Lord]Versace robe at my show, I'm that dude
Yeah, Ravishing Rick Rude (Woo)
Load work, get it off, that's my mood
Pass the gloves, I'm 'bout to bag up this food (Whip, whip, whip)
Told niggas: Help me get it up, I need a meal
Fucked around and shitted on me, now I got some mils (I'm up)
Cartel theme music, you can scheme to it
Sittin' in the lab with a rag, cleanin' beams to it
Smokin' on Lung Crusher, mix it with the toke
And a strand that costs you more than what you sniffin' up your nose (Sniff)
Put some pep in your step, ain't no draggin' your feet
I ain't rush before I left, but I'll be back in a week, uh
Lord Mobb, capital F, MAC with a vest (Woo)
Another little blicky clipped and strapped to my chest, uh (Brr-r-r)
Chillin' in my family room, still'll make the hammers boom
Bullets fly everywhere, even hit your grandma room (Brr-r-r)

I done spent most mi life in another life
Another day
Look in mi eye
Trust me
I watched mi grandchildren grow, you understand?
But most of the time, people terminate such plan fi you