[Intro: Benny The Butcher]
Statik Selektah
Yeah, for all my niggas right here, this for everybody
A lot of shit be on my brain, I don't even talk about it
The Butcher comin', nigga
[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher]
Yo, this for all of my day ones who never gossiped or crossed me
You know I think about some wild shit sometimes when I'm saucy (Think)
Most of it's small, but some still constantly haunt me (Nightmares)
Like how my mom showed me things that my pops should've taught me
Trappin' to cop school kicks that my pops should've bought me
Raised by the block as a shorty, so tell me, how could you fault me? (How?)
When these niggas'll pawn they soul for a spot at the Grammy's (Not us)
And these hoes just want surgery from Dr. Miami (Damn)
But we don't gotta do whatever to sell (Nah)
'Cause real shit'll never get stale
The new niggas, you never could tell (Never tell)
It's niggas that's home that probably live better in jail (You know)
And if Term like Larry Bird, I guess I'm Kevin McHale
It's like my whole city wired, every block got a camera
Traps got rooms for smokers and spots for the samplers
Pots, Arm & Hammer and card tables, spots for the gamblers (Real shit)
Guns with red beams on 'em, not for no amateurs
Still fuckin' with the same shooters
Arm out the window, barrel on a bulldog (Brr)
Smokin' like Eddie Kane Jr. (Uh)
And we represent the same movement
I miss my homies
Screamin' "Free all my niggas" until them chains loosen (Ah)
Statik Selektah
Yeah, for all my niggas right here, this for everybody
A lot of shit be on my brain, I don't even talk about it
The Butcher comin', nigga
[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher]
Yo, this for all of my day ones who never gossiped or crossed me
You know I think about some wild shit sometimes when I'm saucy (Think)
Most of it's small, but some still constantly haunt me (Nightmares)
Like how my mom showed me things that my pops should've taught me
Trappin' to cop school kicks that my pops should've bought me
Raised by the block as a shorty, so tell me, how could you fault me? (How?)
When these niggas'll pawn they soul for a spot at the Grammy's (Not us)
And these hoes just want surgery from Dr. Miami (Damn)
But we don't gotta do whatever to sell (Nah)
'Cause real shit'll never get stale
The new niggas, you never could tell (Never tell)
It's niggas that's home that probably live better in jail (You know)
And if Term like Larry Bird, I guess I'm Kevin McHale
It's like my whole city wired, every block got a camera
Traps got rooms for smokers and spots for the samplers
Pots, Arm & Hammer and card tables, spots for the gamblers (Real shit)
Guns with red beams on 'em, not for no amateurs
Still fuckin' with the same shooters
Arm out the window, barrel on a bulldog (Brr)
Smokin' like Eddie Kane Jr. (Uh)
And we represent the same movement
I miss my homies
Screamin' "Free all my niggas" until them chains loosen (Ah)
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!