Blow

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Benny The Butcher] Ay it's a real nigga marathon Uh huh I was in the beam trying to get them trees sent to Juma Now I'm in the breeze trying to get the things sent from Cuba I probably left the Ruger spin your block, hit your crew up Niggas gonna snitch to jewelers, rats gon' handpick the shooters (Aw man) I had you going to another way (What up nigga?) Or your homies wiping tears off your mother's face I need a block worth $100K Or a spot where the money straight so I could do one a day Yeah I treat this rap shit like the perfect lick (Perfect lick) My Griselda deal worth a brick (Worth a brick) Pistol on 'em cause he can't work the stack The streets made us merciless There's no turning back once you insert the clip (No turning back) It's rich or broke, freedom or jail My man shit, sleep in a cell (Uh huh) We let off biscuits and ballistics, come clean up the shells We made choices and had to pay lawyers to even the scales True story, you know the pot was glass, lots of cash Took twenty bands to the jeweler and my watch was half I make the moves and she count the cash You heard? It's only right, I got the shoes and she got the bag They want a feature or they came to buy dope off us This where they come and get their stamp, we like the post office It ain't no gas in the trap, and it ain't no corporate So we use the microwave to cook and run the cold water (Fuck you know about that?) I only kick it how the hustlers talk (How the hustlers talk) And got receipts for shit a hustler bought (Uh huh) Me? I really had a brick inside a muscle car We both got money, only difference is there's blood on ours [Chorus: Grafh] All my niggas know it's street shit (Street shit) I'll have my hood blow down the precinct (Precinct) And these guns ain't for show (Ain't for show) Hitters everywhere I go (Everywhere I go) I'll blow you down, I'll blow you down I'll blow you down, I'll blow you down Mmm My name Grafh hoe Mmm My name Grafh hoe Mmm [Verse 2: Grafh] Are you stupid, my pistol's enormous My shells could fit on a tortoise You brought a nickel to the Forbes list I'm picking up the harvest, soft weed I lift up a forest I'm talking in codes, my keys come with a thesaurus The [?] explodes [?] would fit in a cartridge Your broad's getting low on her knees 'til she licking the carpet (Freak) My slippers is [?] in ostrich nigga My chinchilla's gorilla and shark skin nigga Hennessy straight I drink dark skin liquor I put bunk beds in the grave and make coffins bigger My offense shake the dice and let a dollar fall Chip a brick of white into a cotton ball Dirty sprite and some Tylenol I t-bag your bitch like I'm spiking a volleyball (Ow) You trust your life with your body guards My infrared lights full of body parts When I snipe then karate starts Step back, gold chains over the chest tats I step out of the booth smelling like ExLax Death math, don't get this coke residue on your dress slacks It's hard to breathe with your chest cracked, neck snapped Fake gold chains making your neck scratch This is New York, New York Like a Yankee vs. Nets match Your doctor trying to make different parts of your flesh match I just trapped, F tax, the techs blast Anybody could get it, the techs blast [Outro] All my niggas know it's street shit My nigga Benny burning down the precinct