| Uhh, smokin' to the face, that’s the ways of a loner
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| Had shootouts, cops clean the blood stains with ammonia
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| Before I had a job, got paid from a corner
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| Lost a seed to a drive-by, a stray hit his daughter, uhh
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| My whole story, facts, how I blew 40 racks
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| And if I catch another case I get the mandatory max
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| Kick it with my jeweler, still sittin' with a shooter
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| In case some niggas wanna try and put a ceiling on my future (nah)
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| I’m gettin' money now, sendin' bitches to Aruba
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| Investigators pullin' up my pictures on computers
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| When friends start to switch in this business get confusin'
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| Call the plug James Harden 'cause he dribblin' in Houston
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| It go from him, my trunk, the kitchen to the users
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| Ate his last meal, he was sittin' with a Judas
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| We was street niggas, did a little bit, improvin'
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| Still street niggas, we just makin' bid’ness men manoeuvres
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| Motherfucker!
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| Look, uhh
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| Real niggas verse fake, and we up one
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| And all these real niggas know the cloth that I’m cut from
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| Chanel bag leather strap layin' across the shoulder
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| Sittin' next to Raphael Saadiq at Bossanova
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| Cross me, you make your funeral arrangements
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| Hand out pictures to killers, give my shooters locations
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| Y’all niggas trip and be broke, y’all ain’t used to no paper
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| That’s why you trap and give that money back soon as you make it
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| Uhh, niggas pull up shootin' cans from convertibles
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| Enough on your head, make your friends wanna murder you
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| Watch how I withstand the damage, endurable
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| Watch how they react when God grants you a miracle
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| Rappers drop once want you to hand 'em the title
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| I speak facts, I can rap with my hand on the Bible
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| Walk in my shoes, you gotta shake hands with your rivals
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| And get signed when the D.A. |
| got plans to indict you, the shit real |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Don't Make Me , by - Benny the Butcher. Song from the album Butcher on Steroids, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп