[Intro: Boldy James]
B.B. Butcher
Let's get it
[Chorus: Boldy James & Benny the Butcher]
From Detroit to Buffalo, we love to smuggle blow
Soon as the pack landed, I let a couple go
Michigan back to New York, keep burning up the pipe
We turning up at night, I just earned another stripe
90 East and 94, ducking the state patrol
I had to move safe and low, 'specially 'cause my face was known
Free all my hitters in the clink just tryna make parole
I'ma still scrape the bowl 'til the day you make it home
[Verse 1: Boldy James & Benny the Butcher]
We need a place to pitch, ain't a mound, get a brick, break it down
Hit a lick, take you down, take a city, rape a town
Eighty big ones in the ceiling, tell that bitch, "Don't make a sound"
'80s babies still in prison, wish that I could break him out
Stood up and he made us proud, told him, "When I make it out
We ain't gon' have to risk our life no more, I found a safer route"
I just shot a kite to bro, he put me on a paper route
Now we on the road, thirty-six Os wrapped up in paper towel
My witness ain't show up to court, the judge, he had to weigh the trial
They say I got a morbid sense of humor, but that made me smile
Shoutout to my shooter, when he drill you, that's a flagrant foul
Just put in for his appeal, he told me it might take a while
Told him, "Ain't shit but some time, just make sure that you make it count (Uh-huh)
And when you get back out that bitch, don't let these niggas take you out
Or trick you out the street again, these bitches out here chasing clout (Huh)
Make sure you double-count it, give a fuck how long it take to count" (Yo)
B.B. Butcher
Let's get it
[Chorus: Boldy James & Benny the Butcher]
From Detroit to Buffalo, we love to smuggle blow
Soon as the pack landed, I let a couple go
Michigan back to New York, keep burning up the pipe
We turning up at night, I just earned another stripe
90 East and 94, ducking the state patrol
I had to move safe and low, 'specially 'cause my face was known
Free all my hitters in the clink just tryna make parole
I'ma still scrape the bowl 'til the day you make it home
[Verse 1: Boldy James & Benny the Butcher]
We need a place to pitch, ain't a mound, get a brick, break it down
Hit a lick, take you down, take a city, rape a town
Eighty big ones in the ceiling, tell that bitch, "Don't make a sound"
'80s babies still in prison, wish that I could break him out
Stood up and he made us proud, told him, "When I make it out
We ain't gon' have to risk our life no more, I found a safer route"
I just shot a kite to bro, he put me on a paper route
Now we on the road, thirty-six Os wrapped up in paper towel
My witness ain't show up to court, the judge, he had to weigh the trial
They say I got a morbid sense of humor, but that made me smile
Shoutout to my shooter, when he drill you, that's a flagrant foul
Just put in for his appeal, he told me it might take a while
Told him, "Ain't shit but some time, just make sure that you make it count (Uh-huh)
And when you get back out that bitch, don't let these niggas take you out
Or trick you out the street again, these bitches out here chasing clout (Huh)
Make sure you double-count it, give a fuck how long it take to count" (Yo)
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