[Intro: Benny The Butcher]
Uh-huh
Black Soprano's
If it ain't that, it ain't nothin'
It's only gon' go one way, uh
[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher]
Off the corner, I made my great escape
That type of energy radiate, radio playin' Babyface
That little nine-piece, that ain't no weight
I cross county lines when state to state, OT with that Fuego Base
Are you a soldier or is you makin' cake?
'Cause breakin' bread with crowded table space
Gon 'start to feel like anchor weights
I kinda feel like Jim Kelly did, one game away
I gave the game away, save that pie for a rainy day
Countin' up with Jay Rock, we goin' dollar for dollar
Knowledge is power, I'm a businessman, my product was powder
Brick stacked, stashed in the oven, but that's not a lasagna
India'll drive them bitches back herself, from Guadalajara
I bet y'all thought I was finished when I got shot by that robber
'Cause that'd probably take your stock to the bottom
Havin' dough, that's not a new problem, the plug in Malibu hidin'
He get the door of the mansion', sayin' "Mi casa, su casa"
Luxury shit, that's what I got comfortable with
Look who turned a couple of bricks into publishing splits
Six years later, my nigga, and I'm still punishin' shit
Haters mad at me still, must be somethin' I spent, fuck 'em
Uh-huh
Black Soprano's
If it ain't that, it ain't nothin'
It's only gon' go one way, uh
[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher]
Off the corner, I made my great escape
That type of energy radiate, radio playin' Babyface
That little nine-piece, that ain't no weight
I cross county lines when state to state, OT with that Fuego Base
Are you a soldier or is you makin' cake?
'Cause breakin' bread with crowded table space
Gon 'start to feel like anchor weights
I kinda feel like Jim Kelly did, one game away
I gave the game away, save that pie for a rainy day
Countin' up with Jay Rock, we goin' dollar for dollar
Knowledge is power, I'm a businessman, my product was powder
Brick stacked, stashed in the oven, but that's not a lasagna
India'll drive them bitches back herself, from Guadalajara
I bet y'all thought I was finished when I got shot by that robber
'Cause that'd probably take your stock to the bottom
Havin' dough, that's not a new problem, the plug in Malibu hidin'
He get the door of the mansion', sayin' "Mi casa, su casa"
Luxury shit, that's what I got comfortable with
Look who turned a couple of bricks into publishing splits
Six years later, my nigga, and I'm still punishin' shit
Haters mad at me still, must be somethin' I spent, fuck 'em
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