Correction Lyrics Good For The Soul (Nottz Remix) by Fatlip

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Lyrics

Yo, yeah
Yeah

Food for your soul, my lyricals are medicinal
Third eye peripheral, I see it all, leave 'em in awe
Even if it ain't intentional
My mistakes are greater than what any fake n***a meant to do
I stop the negativity and elevate in the spiritual state
Something you define as a divinity, God
No complex, I just stay humble
Pa** me the platter, I got kush to crumble
Stand tall like Mutombo, Lebron with the pen game
I'm going in like I'm going insanе, you know my name
Icon to the eightiеs, baby
Don't play me, baby
B*t*h n***as got rabies
Is it me, or is sh*t getting crazy?
End of the day nowadays nothing really faze me
Unless it pays me, I don't even pay attention
I'm about my money, that's just something I ain't got to mention

Oh, so you're new in town?
You New Edition, n***a cool it down
We shoot clowns out their squad cars, bars
On the blocks is the heavy metal rock-stars
Making cops set a n***a free when we drop bars
I vanguard your pop charts
You pop torch, you're not hard, you're pop corn
You're not hot, you just got warm
And got warned when the shots swung
Ayo, keys over locked doors
We shoot the truth that will stop wars
We're on the block with the mom and pops at the swap store
We got ours, who got yours? Blu got more
Bro, hop off that Jaguar
I swear I told the w**** I wasn't born a day ago
Coming out the bank with dough like I robbed the banker store
Black and gold like the Raiders at the Lake Show
Blu start balling and your pockets got their ankles broke, damn!
How you stand like a grown man?
With my cash on both hands, old man

Step up to the problem when the mission is impossible
Kick rocks, your progress gon front
Bumps from inside of the trunk
They hunker down when the artist in town
I open eyes when I author the sound
Why these cops never in hospital gowns?
Pops' in a lot of pain now, since going under the knife
Streets in a lot of pain now, but they been sentenced for life
Well, I was raised up in a White Castle
Obese prodigy with seven-headed Adam's apple
Dragon snatched me from youth
But I escaped through the booth
Sniffing poisons til the roof of my mouth
Felt like the roof of a house
Insomniac, always grinding it out
Not a sharp tooth left in the south
So I split from the flatlands
Saved myself from God's leather belt
Only mom's, didn't need God's f**king help
'Cause what's praying to the sky save ya?
A couple holy words spilled out on the curb 'fore they cremate ya
No weed paper
Forever blowed
The Church of the Skypager

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