| Uh-huh
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| The Butcher comin', nigga
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| Yeah, uh
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| (Hit-Boy)
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| I’m a Christian Dior shirt rocker, two Glock wearer
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| Only rapper that would’ve thrived in the 2Pac era
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| I’m talkin' '98 drug money, shoebox era (Shoebox era)
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| I proved my point once, in every take, the proof got clearer
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| Y’all niggas make threats (Huh), we pay killers and take bets
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| Fuck with us and end up bad like dope you can’t stretch (Hah)
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| Twenty somethin' years in it and ain’t make a mistake it
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| If you ain’t spendin' half an M, ain’t no way to relate yet
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| Mob ties, I’ll prick your finger before I connect you (Gang)
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| I know some niggas that rather kill you before they respect you (Ah)
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| And fuck rap, me and my niggas sold boy as professionals
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| They say it’s time to eat again on this Oyster Perpetual
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| Scars on my body still (Still), they think I signed Illuminati deals
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| (Illuminati deals)
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| 'Cause this paper talkin' to me like it’s Johnny Gill
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| I push weight like I bodybuild (Bodybuild)
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| I let the bitch slide, her attitude fake but her body real (Let's go)
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| I’m on point when my enemies not
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| I shoot with nobody 'round me like a penalty shot (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
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| When niggas' traps was warmin' up, mines was literally hot (Mines was hot)
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| The promotin' I did, Pyrex should be givin' me pots, yeah
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| That’s how you handle business (Business), got my name in the Guinness
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| (Guinness)
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| Records, next to ballers and retired drug dealers
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| Side note, I’m the realest (Uh-uh), signin' off, Mister Pennick
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| This money ain’t change shit, I’m gangsta from start to finish (Let's go)
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| It’s blood on the money, blood on my hands (On my hands)
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| It’s blood on the money, blood on my hands (On my hands)
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| It’s blood on the money, blood on my hands (On my hands)
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| It’s blood on the money, blood on my hands (On my hands)
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| Yeah, triple black tints on the Caddy
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| What you know about bein' out in the Valley? |
| The plug ask you for an addy (Huh?)
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| I broke bread in the middle of war, y’all took breaks
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| For a bid and a couple shootouts, I look great (Uh, hahaha)
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| I ain’t with no rap beef, it’s Fs on my rap sheet
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| At eighteen, I had the trap bumpin' like acne
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| Niggas want the formula, Griselda’s the factory
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| You need a million dollars and an army tank just to match me (What's poppin'?)
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| Dior, my new habit, lawyers in suit jackets
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| I’m eatin', with a lot on my plate, so I chew faster
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| I’m an old hustler but, I’m rich as these new rappers (New niggas)
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| I’m the Butcher so these new ratchets like two hatchets (Butcher comin')
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| You got rumors on your name, I got shooters in my gang
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| I was a mover of the 'caine, you know, pursuin' to the fame
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| Y’all comparin' me to niggas? |
| (Huh) That’s abusive to my name
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| I sold the dope to 'em, then I watch 'em shoot it in they veins
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| With my real niggas, this what bein' live means (Live means)
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| I need a spread in Don Diva like I’m Sly Green (Like I’m Sly Green)
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| I need a long run in Vegas like I’m Don King (Uh)
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| Until then, I’ma follow these Bentley high beams (Let's go)
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| The Butcher comin', nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sly Green , by - Benny the Butcher. Song from the album Burden of Proof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп