| Uh-huh
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| You know what they say right?
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| You’re only as good as your last run
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| And I’m on my best run
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| So what that tell you about me?
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| The Butcher coming nigga
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| I’m done doin' favors, made money, I’m too busy to spend
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| I need appointments just to thumb through the paper
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| All foreign’s when we come through in Vegas
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| Walk in the house with bricks like I’m 'bout to teach Kung Fu to neighbors
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| I was just a dealer, I’m a healer, in my present state
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| Put it in the wrong pot and it came back a crescent shape
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| Meetings with the plug I’m landin' somewhere in Texas late
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| We spent six hours politickin' like election day
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| Streets still callin' me, that silverware talk to me, and tell me it can make
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| my family wealthy as the Carnegie’s
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| City has some work for me, my aunt had a job for me
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| I told bruh to tell unc' I wasn’t home if he called for me
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| These rap niggas pussy, the dope game violent
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| I gave these niggas tutorials on cocaine science
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| Real niggas left, just a few of us, she ride me like a school bus
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| I fuck with her but I don’t tell her too much
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| She know the rapper Benny, she don’t know the trapper Benny
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| In that Caprice Classic I’m in traffic with a half on Benny
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| In a cell, my right hand put up the bail cash for Benny (Yeah)
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| Now I’m in court with two lawyers speaking on behalf of Benny
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| Look, count the money and spray the hundreds on the top of the mattress
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| I just been trapping from the bottom, I never had shit
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| Free my homie, he behind the wall for poppin' his ratchet
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| Take 500 to his baby mama, drop off a package
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| We was baggin' 5/8ths burnin' the top of the plastic
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| Now «Look What I Became» about to drop, it’s a classic
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| Rockin' Versace while I’m shopping at Saks Fifth
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| Get out of pocket, I’ll have your mama shoppin' for caskets boy
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| 35 hundred for a pair of glasses
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| Wearing Hermes rarest fabric, bitches tell me I’m charismatic
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| I carry 'matics, I will air and clap it
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| The FN jacket hit his bullet proof vest and tear in half it
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| Put you in a box and not the spital
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| My bitch look like Saweetie, my pockets on Lizzo
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| We dollar boxes, split the profit down the middle
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| My young boy Kemba, he shot it off the dribble motha fucka
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| Don’t let me show you what this 4 pound do
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| Stand point blank range, let a close round flew
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| Your folks gon' get smoked if they go 'round you
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| Like a breakfast and lunch spot, they get a close round too, huh
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| All I had was a stable block, independent
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| You got hot from a label, I made my label hot
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| Got 10 bricks on a table top
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| They see me to put bread on the table, I’m like the bagel shop
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| I meet a plug, then I make 'em pop
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| And if he don’t appreciate what I make him then I’ma take hiS spot
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| I gave four plugs fatal shots
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| Put four lines on the ground like I’m tryin' to create a box
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| I’m the nigga that the haters watch
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| I’m connected like Lego blocks or the line to the cable box
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| And I ain’t never been afraid of cops
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| In prison, George had the same vision that Diego got
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| You ain’t never seen a cell block
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| Used to hide when we saw 12, now we drive V12 drops
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| The nigga cried then his barrel dropped
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| That’s how a stand up guy transform to a female cop
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| My first charge, I was shell shocked
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| My ole bitch called the police on me, had me in jail hot
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| They found an ounce in my mailbox
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| Caught an F for my O with my X like I’m trying to spell fox, huh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Never Seen a Man Cry , by - 38 Spesh. Song from the album 1994, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп