Who Are You - Benny the Butcher, Royce 5'9, Melanie Rutherford

Uh, I ain’t gon' even lie

I be having things on my mind all of the time

That I think I need and I be knowing that I ain’t gon' even buy

I’ma probably just rob and scheme

Man, I’ma rob you in a ride so clean

I ain’t even gon' rob you blind, nigga, I’ma rob you seen

I’m from a far side, no side you done seen

Y’all slaves to y’all own mind

And I’ma just play apartheid with your queen

Mean, I ain’t gon' even lie

Yo' bitch badder than a bag full of new cash of that rare tender

Ever since she got that new ass that she been draggin'

Fam, she done been The Last Airbender

Coming around here in them yoga pants

Fuck making a pass at her, I’m past that

Man, that bitch could have my whole advance

I might even have to go against my better judgement

Say fuck it and hold her hand, damn, I ain’t gon' even lie

Sunflower seeds the only time you probably see shells fly

Violence be right in my driveway, by a nigga mailbox

I don’t know why I keep sayin' I ain’t gon' lie, man, I don’t even tell lies

Niggas be claiming that they bleed loyalty

Niggas be saying that they come from royalty

But who are you?

Who are you?

Yo, look

There’s wisdom in my words but some men can’t see it

Thinking they gon' find the truth in that shit they reading

My pen stay bleeding, this the pain from them days

I spent sitting next to moms in them N.A. meetings

Knowing she gon' smoke again, first of the month

We was rolling and by time the fourth came, we was broke again

So the dope man fed us, we gram sellers

I’m more Manuel Noriega than Mandela

They want me in a jam like I don’t know no damn better

Crammed in a three-man cell, skimming through fan letters

Like what the fuck I’m doing here in the first place?

When all the weed burn out, I’m in my worst shape

I think I’m cursed, wait, damn

Brand new pistol, I’m dying to take that bitch out like a first date

When it’s my turn, watch the game get shifted

My brain the sickest, so every line pain inflicted

My brother went out like dark-skinned Jermaine, I miss him

He had a bullet with his name in the chamber, sitting

I hang with spitters but really got my name in kitchens

So I do it for them niggas with that same ambition

This the part where the bitches and the cars get faster

The richer these rappers get, it’s like the bars get trasher

I’m the wrong rapper niggas wanna target after

I’m like Bob Backlund mixed in with Marvin Hagler

The butcher

Niggas be claiming that they bleed loyalty

Niggas be saying that they come from royalty

But who are you?

Who are you?