| Uh, yeah, nigga
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| It’s Benny, yo
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| I’ma squeeze the juice out you niggas
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| Yo, look
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| I don’t regret the homies I cut off or the bitches I cancelled
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| A blade in the kitchen, gripping a pot handle
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| You sitting for clipping an innocent bystander
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| Low income livers grew to be niggas with high standards
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| Ay, look, got my introduction robbing shit at Hustler’s (true)
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| They call to squash the beef, that’s not in the discussion
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| Made it to the point only reached by 5% of hustlers
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| Put it on the stove, I stretch it, and I can get the tumblers
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| Sparking pistols with long extendos
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| Spray the driver side like we tryna wash the windows
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| Something big and long on me, I won’t argue with you
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| I’ma let it off, then hit you, then dolphin flip you
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| Look, you know the squad a hundred if the boss official
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| GxFR, I fuck around and carve it in you
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| We got used to being stars, speeding off from venues
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| Ate at Benihana’s and never ordered off the menus, let’s go
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| You not connected, then you never spoke to me probably
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| I’m riding in the Ghost, but I’m smoking Ferrari
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| He said if I buy the TEC, he gon' throw in the shottie
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| Cooking while you looking, if you broke or you slow, that’s Hibachi
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| I ain’t with this rap crap, I bag smack fam
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| Pap-pap this black MAC, then flatten that man
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| These niggas in cac sack, hooting jack mag then
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| Go and sharpen the top from the jack mag can, nigga
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| Uh, fuck y’all niggas know about that?
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| (Fuck y’all niggas know about that?)
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| That’s why they sent me here
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| Uh, street shit, nigga
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| Y’all niggas forgot, the Butcher
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| Huh, I’m your reminder, I’m your consequence
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| Benny, Griselda, I’m the last nigga you wanna see, uh
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| Trust me, uh
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| I mean, that’s why I mention how good I am at cooking the brick
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| Went so deep in the game, understood I couldn’t repent
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| Stood on the strip, P89 full to the tip
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| These bullets are swift, they probably gon' lift the hood of your whip
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| Made nigga, I ain’t never been belittled before
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| Y’all shaking hands with them niggas in the middle of war?
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| When you a street nigga, you gotta keep a pistol or sword
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| Think quickly, you lost and learn how to forget what you saw, uh
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| You talking, straight hustling, tryna park the Wraith, stunting
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| Left the game, a lot of niggas ain’t get to walk away from it
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| I’m talking graves and niggas walking off with state numbers
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| He been down since kids, it’s awful when he call to say something
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| Uh, what you know about shaving off a gray substance?
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| Brick of white girl and I call it Kate Hudson
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| I do this for the kids that starved and ate nothing
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| And had to rock off brand just 'cause they fathers ain’t hustling
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| This year, I’ma make y’all niggas really respect me
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| Told West, «I gotta eat, you gotta really connect me»
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| And if I’m wrong, shit, which one of y’all gon' really correct me
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| If Conway catch a body, guess who getting accessory?
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| Niggas hating, threw salt, nah, it didn’t affect me
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| Never cared who gave a fuck about or didn’t accept me
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| Cold world, jumped in the game, momma couldn’t protect me
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| Bought a gun and had to shoot like I was winning an ESPY
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| I had to dress the work up like I was getting it sexy
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| Had to serve the whole house just like a nigga was Geoffrey
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| Want the dick so bad, your bitch willing to beg me
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| Like a police exam, these niggas not willing to test me
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| Let’s go
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| You niggas don’t want no smoke, man
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| I know what this is, man, you know what this is
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| Uh, these niggas not willing to test me
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| Uh, I dare you, dare you
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| It’s looking real bad for you niggas, man
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| Give your man a job or something
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| You niggas looking real hurt
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| We see how y’all faces look
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| You ain’t low, nigga, uh |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fast Eddie , by - Benny the Butcher. Song from the album Tana Talk 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп