Lyrics

[Intro: Benny the Butcher, Conway The Machine, & Rick Hyde] Ayo it's Benny the Butcher Conway the motherfucking Machine It's Ricky Hyde And it's big Griselda, big BSF in this motherfucker Ay you know we fuck with the LA Leakers, man, my nigga DJ Sourmilk, Justin Credible, but guess what, we took over the studio Rick Hyde, smoke these niggas Griselda takeover, nigga, Griselda takeover, yeah Let's get it [Verse 1: Rick Hyde] These applauds got me awestruck, I'm the wave, niggas washed up All these goofy niggas aw shucks Yo' bitch staring 'cause she star-struck She know I do it venti like Starbucks, it feel better when it's all us This new money 9 AM, it got us all up Comme des Garçons PLAY t-shirt, the Fear of God Chucks Boy I'm wavy as Venice Beach wit' a small gust My favorite gun is the .38 'cause it's all trust My feet planted like rhubarb, I move you like U-Haul I'm nice in front of mics, Joe Dumars I'm two miles, two laps, two blocks, two cars Ahead of any place on the list you think you are It's a nuance, you just a cheaper version, that's a coupon Remember I was getting slept on like a futon But now a nigga only getting hotter like it's Tucson The diamonds on my neck cool me down like it's lukewarm Look at me, I am the captain now Without no cap or gown, this new SIG saw ya' homie and back him down The handle ivory so I call that bitch the mastodon My mentality nine-seven, I'm Cappadonn' Heard they praying on my downfall Instead of battle me, niggas'd rather shadow me, they groundhogs I skip past niggas, ground ball I ain't playing like I'm John Wall, they ain't hear me like the sound off [Interlude 1: Benny the Butcher & Conway The Machine] I got you though, I got you That boy in his fucking zone Yo, ay look [Verse 2: Benny] I just put a stash house around the palisades Clothesline the brick like I'm Diamond Dallas Page I was fronting a nigga work and I was half his age I ran around with nappy braids selling dog food, crack and 'caine Now it's matching chains, I'll tell you how to stack your change And triple, spend a little, never mix it with the cash you saved I don't like these niggas, I forget these rappers' names Guess bein' real don't matter to 'em, since you can't get that appraised Got up from a hangover, and I got back to business This between me and you, I done shot cats for listening I bought lashes, fake asses, I bought contacts for bitches I need high stacks and contacts with contract extensions Better cool that, I turn this to a new set You fuck niggas ain't give me no advice, I could use yet Who set the table, with eight-balls, like a pool set Was stressing True, yes, now it's VS's on my crew neck The strap mine, the homie just riding and tote it for me Yeah, and he down to line you over this money The plug need me to get rid of it, you know it's ugly That got my price cheap as the nigga who sold it to me They diamonds don't hit like this, they whips not fast enough Bring that bitch around again, and I'ma end up tagging her 30-something for a joint, them numbers not adding up You take it to the table and make triple when you bag it up The Butcher, nigga [Interlude 2: Conway The Machine] Yeah, look [Verse 3: Conway The Machine] I don't know a nigga that hate rap niggas more than me 'Cause the niggas dissing is niggas that's broke and 43 Type of niggas catch a case, don't got the lawyer fee Type to smile up in your face, ain't got no loyalty Remember niggas wouldn't lend me no help So I did it on my own, nigga I built it myself I ain't gotta pay the shooters, I could spill you myself Fendi the belt, matte black Bentley is stealth, wooh Them bodies drop, they had no sympathy felt My heart been empty ever since I had my injuries dealt I got shot, I got hit in my helmet But when water get too deep, you either drown or start swimming like Phelps, nigga You smell the lobster tail and shrimp when I belch I ain't fuck with too many niggas, they ain't real as myself And I got this acquisition of wealth Put so much fire on the streets it make the sole on your Timberlands melt, nigga I'm a nigga you shouldn't dare to try I'm from Main Street where you cross Dope, the scary side I stare in his eyes, I see fear inside Diamond tennis necklace, 40 point is the canary size Not bad for the guy who face paralyzed From getting shot in his neck and the back of his head and nearly die But as far as catalogs, you niggas can't compare to mines Pour the Henny on my bullet wounds, that's how I sterilize Watch me terrorize, I don't follow rules And I don't respect the opinions of niggas with hollow jewels Hollows in the tools, that's how I gotta move I got caught without it before, but shit, I'm not a fool Bulk of gelato in my condo, I got two supermodels nude I'ma fuck 'em both, I ain't gotta choose After this project, I'm dropping one more I gotta prove You see a Freshmen cover, me? I just see a lot of food I see you niggas tryna take the formula and make it cornier, I'm on to ya' Don't make me call shorty up, he grip his .40 up Shooting ya' corner up, send you for a ride wit' the coroner Cake piling, spent my last two days counting Invested in the real estate and made safe houses Same block where I had a K wilding I made thousands, I could stand on my bricks and make yay mountains Open my garage doors and pull a Wraith out it Puerto Rican bitches love me like I'm J Balvin Versace drawers, nah bitch these ain't Calvins Militant mind, I'm the modern day Malcolm I'm the nigga that they doubted I got great in my own lane, all these niggas now they lane crowding And I ain't even drop a album But the flow polished like a nigga on his eighth album, hah On Dope Street, I used to move a O a day You can't take these chains, boy, my jewels don't go away You can't name a crew that flow today That's fucking with me, just think, Everybody Is F.O.O.D. was a throwaway Everything I touch, this shit is classic I call the plug in the traffic, and get a traffic Already sold half it, before I ripped the plastic Neck looking like I just went triple platinum Quick with the action, your favorite rapper, I will slap him And have his head spinning backwards, then spin a Backwoods I'm shooting like Dame Lillard, I'm hitting baskets I'm in the booth spitting gases, get your matches, nigga And you suckers knowing what's up You get a shitbag when I'm dumping low with the pump Who the hardest in the streets, motherfucker, you know it's us I ain't bring New York back, I put Buffalo in the front Motherfucker Machine, bitch [Outro: Benny the Butcher, Conway The Machine, & Rick Hyde] Big fucking Grisela, Big BSF, ha, goddamn You know what's up, nigga, LA Leakers Justin Credible Sour Milk, what up, nigga? Man we west coasting right now, man Nah, shout out to the guys That shit was crazy This nigga just went bananas