| Yeah
|
| Shit sound crazy, Hit
|
| The Butcher comin', nigga
|
| See the difference is
|
| From me and y’all niggas, I really did this shit though
|
| So I can say what I wanna say, uh
|
| (Hit-Boy)
|
| I do this religiously and I don’t trust fools in this industry
|
| Mad I came through on a winnin' streak
|
| That’s me blastin' through your car auxiliary
|
| They wanna John Lennon me, or John Kennedy
|
| Since I been on, I feel my adrenaline goin'
|
| It take me back to the corners I solicited on
|
| You know the ratio, when you from the hood, the only place we know
|
| Only three out of ten of us gon' make it though
|
| No President Trump shit, elegant thug shit
|
| Yeah, left on parole, gettin' heroin plugged in
|
| Feelings ain’t 'posed to linger, I left without regrets
|
| Numb like anesthesia, feds want me subpoenaed
|
| For niggas chasin' goals that I targetted myself
|
| Some of my best verses, I’m just talkin' to myself
|
| They won’t let me live for shit I already did
|
| Everytime my opps need medics, the credit hits
|
| I’m like a mirror, not your reflection, the better years
|
| But if you break me, that’s bad luck for eleven years
|
| Everytime one of us die, I shed a tear
|
| Then look in the sky, I wonder if Heaven there
|
| That was Benny at the height of the pressure and never scared
|
| So the bond that I built with my niggas’ll never tear
|
| Only a few in this room, yeah, that’s when you rare
|
| Get a million-dollar deal, we used to get rid of squares, hmm
|
| Yeah, I’ma push it to the limit
|
| Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
|
| Dropped two hundred so they really know the difference
|
| I’m in it like a taxi, your chick wanna bag me
|
| Huh, push it to the limit
|
| Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
|
| Dropped two hundred so they really know the difference
|
| I’m goin' over the limit, we never pose for pictures, motherfucker
|
| Live from the block, we came to remind those who forgot me
|
| I really bagged dope in Versace
|
| Ducked indictments, then got rich, that really shocked me
|
| Even the FBI surprised that they don’t got me
|
| They tellin' me I’m sayin' too much, but that’s the thing, my shit real
|
| And these rappers playin' too much
|
| Streets taught me, take it easy, never plan too much
|
| Could only move a quarter, then a thousand grams too much
|
| I’m speakin' as a survivor
|
| The load gettin' heavy, I’m reachin' back for my partners
|
| Stuck in them ghettos, that make you feel like a hostage
|
| The ones that speak on my pockets can’t imagine doin' a quarter of what I
|
| accomplished
|
| Around 2010, trap got raided by the sheriffs
|
| Came home in 2012, tendin' to my marriage
|
| Violated back in '13, broke and embarrassed
|
| 2014, I met a plug off of merit
|
| Took my best shot everytime my connect stopped by
|
| My driveway look like a highway rest stop, hmm
|
| You ever been gettin' money, then stopped
|
| 'Cause the pressure of gettin' knocked conflicted with Hip-Hop? |
| Hmm
|
| Yeah, I’ma push it to the limit
|
| Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
|
| Dropped two hundred so they really know the difference
|
| I’m in it like a taxi, your chick wanna bag me
|
| Huh, push it to the limit
|
| Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
|
| Dropped two hundred so they really know the difference
|
| I’m goin' over the limit, we never pose for pictures, motherfucker
|
| (Griselda by Fashion Rebels)
|
| Please leave a message after the tone
|
| Ayo, B, this Caesar, yo
|
| Yo, I’ma have your money, man
|
| Why you gotta be sendin' niggas down to the shop though, fam?
|
| You embarassin' me in front of the company, you know what I’m sayin', fam?
|
| I’ma have your lil' fifty thousand, man, I apologize, man
|
| A nigga goin' through somethin' right now
|
| I make, I make sandwiches all day, nigga, come on, man
|
| Don’t, don’t, don’t be too hard on a nigga, man, I mean
|
| Oh by the way I make, I make the best tuna melt there is, nigga
|
| You need to come down to the shop, you know what I’m sayin'?
|
| Instead of sendin' your goonies, they scarin' the white people, man
|
| You know what I’m sayin'?
|
| You, you can’t be scarin' the white people, they don’t know if it’s Black Live
|
| Matters or robbery, you know what I mean?
|
| So, y, come on down, fam, we talk it out, I, I got your money, sorry
|
| I got your money, man for real, man
|
| But you remember you made it, nigga
|
| Nigga just tryna make it, nigga
|
| Nigga, you made it, nigga, you made it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Over The Limit, artist - Benny the Butcher. Album song Burden of Proof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп