Time

Lyrics

[2Pac sample] Imagine, you have 14,000 people ready to whatever you want You know what I'm saying? When you have, all over the country, people waiting to hear what you wanna do [Intro: Benny the Butcher] Let me sip this 'Gnac Ha And talk to you niggas Uh, uh, word That's all I need Let's see if I can get it right here though [Verse 1: Benny the Butcher] This for my niggas walking down them long bids in them fed spots (Word) State time, 25 to life for a head shot (Head shot) Plan to come home putting the game in a head lock We only celebrate over money, and dead cops Caught a charge and use to havе the cleanest cars (Clеanest cars) While the young niggas getting sent to green and wash (Green and wash) Niggas don't know if they want to sell ki's and rob (Nah!) Indictment season, every year, Spring and Fall Fuck your lap, man, that ratchet better be in the stash You get caught, that's an automatic three and a half You on appeal, and your lawyer tryna bring you home (Tryna bring you home) So you get Cuh or Bloods tryna bring you home (Tryna bring you home!) My first day upstate, a nigga lost his life (Real shit!) You don't know how to play it, might cost his life (Real talk) This for my homies sitting up, can't forget my niggas (Can't forget my niggas) Take flicks in the club and send them to my niggas Word Uh (Straight like that!) [Chorus] [Verse 2: Conway the Machine] (You know I-I just be smoking, man, hahaha, 'nah mean?) Look, count money and spew verses My bitch infatuated with shoes and new purses (Uh) I'm infatuated with jewels and new verts With the roof gone, kicked out of Heaven, I'm too perfect (Hahahaha) Keep it a hundred, a fuck nigga I really hate (Cap) They don't know how to keep it G, let me demonstrate (Pay attention, nigga) I do more than score, I facilitate (Uhuh) I put beef in the bag like a Philly steak (Aaah!) Fly nigga, getting money in any state (Any state) Closet full of pennies I call it the piggy bank (Hahaha!) This nigga fronting like something that he really not Ten bands, them ain't hundreds, that's a fifty knot (What up, baby?) Haha, fold ups hold fifty shots (Yeah) Dutchmasters, the fifty rocks (Woo!) Hmm, it's S.E 'till I go (Go) Forty on the hip, niggas know [Chorus] [Verse 3: Westside Gunn] Ayo Raging bulls match the Dior (Match the Dior) Ki stored in the wash The all Peyton reeking of all base, Peruvian flakes Scraping the case, sprayin' I'm draped in, Bal Harbour with the 40. Cal armor Ducking foul karma The main event, hopping out the latest whip Three striped killers, the Jeremy Scott's made them sick Rick Owen's posing, cokin' MCM duff, wheelie in a Benz truck Dwayne Wayne Carti's posing with the lens up Pick your wig up Drivebys on the .223's Woodgrain like the Ghost dash Salute the coke prices dropping then we toast glass They hitting niggas with the RICO Nightmares of doing life, bagging up a kilo Bury niggas alive like Nicky in Casino Fly as fuck, a.k.a Westside Gambino [Chorus]