Boy-Moore, Flowbot Jone$ - Checkmate lyrics

Every time you make a good run at me
I just threaten your queen and back you go
You're treatin' her like she's the
Last lady on Earth
Your queen is just a pawn with
A lot of fancy moves nothing more
When you see you're playin' a man
Who feels naked without his lady
Jump in there and take her threaten her
And he won't be able to
Think about his game anymore
That's when you make your real move

Yo, yo is there any love in this
World nigga I don't know
It seems I got a lot of
Friends and a lot of foes
Steady rollin' my weed up
Wit at least three hoes out of my day
Summertime dry flipping i got it made
These niggas wanna parlay but
Ain't putting in work
It's like turning on your homies
When you doing your dirt
Make you mad cause you one deep
In these streets thinking, "Damn
Will my niggas really ride for me?"
A lot niggas try to act hard, but really weak
And be them same niggas at
Home that's losing sleep
When my gold Jesus piece
Turn silver I turn my back on it
See I ain't with that fake shit homie
I keep it real
Loose lips sink shit nigga keep stunting
Nigga keep running
When them niggas on yo block
Gone keep it one hunnid
I heard 17 shots just last Monday
Lil nigga looked just like me
Baggy jeans, fitted cap
And a fresh white tee
Back in my younger days I used
To rock it like G he went to this party
After watching this movie
That was themed by the same
Thing that he'd just seen
Actin' out his favorite scene
Bad bitches and cold drinks
But when you 19 you just don't seem to think
Niggas plotting on your soul like
They did at me
They looking for your gold and your jewelries
See they know you from the burbs
And they think you weak
This nigga pulled out a piece
And them shots rang out
Lil homie running scared shot
Dead to the ground
And these niggas foul, and that shit is wild

Get one thing straight
I don't spit lyrics I grant blessings
Socrates spirit tasked with
Asking grand questions it's Flowbot Jone$
Spit mo' hot poems as lessons number one
Don't let short tempers run to long stretches
Two, there's more than red and green
See past the present
Three, use talent you blessed with
Mine you'll never guess it
Keep C4 in my spine to
Make these chords explosives
Cause when you get dough a
Boa's got sordid motions
Keep toasters holstered
And ask you what it's hitting for
I spit him four
He heart attacked and hit the floor
Shit his corpse
I tried to tell him these are death notes
And that spitting nightly, not like me
Is what gives strep throat
But I digress, on to hormones and pheromones
Making whores moan and cause
Terror with Pharaoh bones
After our bodies make music
It's changing the sheets
But remaining a beast check the feral tones
Fangs, scales, claws, and all
Swear that I was born from Smaug
Or born from God, but got a horn that prods
Scorned, never to mourn and sob
Exceptions all my tracks
My body of work's adorned in gauze