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benny the butcher - 2017 bet hip-hop awards cypher lyrics

[verse]
uhh, get out the way, let the butcher through
this position as a boss make me bulletproof
scope on the top of the chopper, but i ain’t looking through
this the sh-t my n-gg-s upstate doing push ups to
in real life i really dodge court
and use the raw fork, trying to get both my daughters a small porsche
while y’all n-gg-s be in the mall short
we bury the money, i got holes in my lawn like a golf course
streets are cancer, feeding off your flesh
and life’s just a dirty b-tch with s-m-n on her breath
re-up with a cheque, then hit neimans with the rest
cause before we met our fathers, we had meeting with connects
been down and lost, talked about, frown upon
heavy is the head that wear the crown of thorns
chop ‘caine and cop jewelry, wasn’t nothing new to me
hate from the guys who had the same opportunities
and ain’t n-body tell me ’bout how these dudes sell you out
line you up, get you pinched, then try to bail you out
came up the way i did, i feel for ya
couldn’t tell if dudes’ll k!ll or steal from ya
how i’m ‘ppose to rap about gold bottles and partying
when i’m from a city, they starving they like somalians
and the ones you thought’ll go hard for you, be the saltiest
now i’m coming through and they got a view from the audience, huh
i’m homesick from taking too many trips
club liv, flame, i’m taking too many pics, right!?
i come home and go straight at these dudes chicks
i don’t want ’em, just obsessed with making these dudes sick, right!?
these young boys gon’ respect the age
cause i’m here for a reason, while you slept i slave
collect and save, it’s hard to detect the raid
when you getting 10 times what the detective made
i got a thing for this life in the streets and bag measuring
they look at what i wear and swear it’s a cash settlement
all my homies came out the trap, bag peddling
now the bottom of my shoe rare where the gas pedal sit
black girl lost, she got pregnant fast selling it
could’ve been the type to get elected cl-ss president
roses only grow from dirt, and that’s evident
the love not supposed to hurt cause that’s treacherous, huh
electric stove got the dough piling
money on the floor with three 4’s on us like the hov’ alb-m
one of the best and put out no alb-ms
the streets awful, close friends’ll cross you quicker than the old allen
but on my court, it ain’t no fouling
i got your hoe styling
somewhere off the coast eating smoke salmon
i said a prayer, looking up to machinegun
dead silent, all i heard was the money machine hum, uhh

- benny the butcher lyrics

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