.762 - Benny the Butcher

Uh, fuck the fame we only came for the bread

Told my homie it’s a bonus if you aim for the head

You point a gun at him he gon' say that ain’t what he said

Plus the clip in it long as Wilt Chamberlain leg

Lost some homies, spent a couple birthdays in the feds

I met plugs, not just thugs, I met Haitians in dreads

You know the kicks that I’m lacing are red

You blazing up reg, tension thick

You tasting the air, I’m blatant you scared

Ridin out for my team, watching out for the D’s

You ever stashed work in a house full of fiends?

You n----- just rapping, I’m about everything

Need shooters and captains when you scout in a team

Time is money, and I’mma need an hour or more

I leave the trap smelling like gunpowder and raw

I’m having nightmares they raiding, huddled out in the hall

Same time i was flushing, they was pounding the door

When you tryna get shit, you ain’t used to having

Might run into some problems, might use some ratchets

Might run into some cops, wearing suits and badges

Never speak on what you saw, if you do you ratting

Real legend, and I’m still plugged in with criminals

You catch a case, pray the judge give a minimal

I send it through your loved ones when they visit you

I live in a town where the love ain’t reciprocal

Rock your enemy to sleep like the drama dead

Then walk up on him in a Rasta wig

Who held the city down like a boat anchor

I got smokers in the room burning coat hangers

Smoking on sour, mixed with cookies

Revenge is the sweetest joy next to getting pussy

I treated the kitchen like chemistry

We unwrap em then we bag em individually

(end chorus)

My intentions was good but the money was evil

cutting diesel, laying up in casinos

I got a hundred clips a hundred straps, none of em legal

Tell on you, brick of C4 under your Regal

Paid since i seen Nino, shit went out with them Guidos

You the type to get your shit took and run to a CO

I’m the type to get your shit pushed and run to Toledo

It’s like I was, bred to be great, so this bread could get baked

Or your head i just take, my hand on this 8, like a man out his Bape

These rap n----- get more weird by the day

I wake up like.

what the fuck I’m gon' hear bout today

I was still in the hood serving fiends like CVS

Bracelet on my ankle that’s a GPS

They ain’t beat me yet, fans still ain’t meet me yet

JAMES BOND HOPPING OUT THAT ASTON MARTIN DBS

When you being mentioned with the baddest who spittin'

Average n----- hating, ain’t you so they had you the villain

Mad in they feelings, probably cus' the talent ain’t in em

Not only that though, the passion ain’t in em

Take it from me, look

My life way deeper than bars and hooks

Pawns and rooks, this shit really hard as it look

If walls could talk, they tell you how the raw was cooked

And how we got to be stars from cooks

My first brick, uh

Rock your enemy to sleep like the drama dead

Then walk up on him in a Rasta wig

Who held the city down like a boat anchor

I got smokers in the room burning coat hangers

Smoking on sour, mixed with cookies

Revenge is the sweetest joy next to getting pussy

I treated the kitchen like chemistry

We unwrap em then we bag em individually

(end chorus)

Yeah

You already know n----

You already know walls closing in on n----- man

Yeah

It’s me

It’s me

I ain’t tellin' my story in third person

Naw

I’m hands on

I’m hands on my n----

Yeah