Benny the Butcher - '97 Hov lyrics

Uh, yeah, the Butcher coming, nigga
I walk in the room, niggas can feel
That pressure when I walk in, nigga
Like you saw the devil, yo, look

I was born in '84, but I’m like '97 Hov
I went platinum off a brick
I cooked on 97 stoves
Yeah, I know the streets is
Watching so I'm highly skeptical
Where I’m at in my career, one hit
And I'll be set to go, uh
Duct tape for the blocks
Black tape for the strap
Bentley in the parking lot
Ashtray full of pack
Had dreams of retiring and burying the money
Back when I was young with
More experience than money
On my Georgetown shit, rock the blue Hoya
When they snatched my niggas up


I got a new lawyer
They start off young so they shoot for you
I groom 'em soon they become they own bosses
And recruit for you
It's not a such thing as too loyal
This gat melt your favorite rapper Patek
Into a pool for you
You think you nice, well, I got news for you
I get 'em chewed for you
It's funny when every rapper food to you
My bitch asking me to settle down
I was reckless at selling brown
She know I'm finally on level ground
I'm tryna change, but in my head it’s sounds
Telling me I can be El
Chapo instead of Kevin Liles
Freestyle for Clue, I feel like ’97 Hov
It was '96, he pulled up in that ’97 Rov', uh
Drove it back and forth
Done went through 97 tolls
Real stories 'bout drug money got
Me etched in stone, uh
By the time they learn to love me
I'll be dead and gone
Real hustlers treat them rentals
Like they second home
First double up, thirty dollars, seven stones
Yeah, I fucked it up
But that whole play set the tone

You real angry you know why I’m mad? Let me
Tell you why I'm mad
I'm mad because everybody on
These records lying
Everybody's lying, everybody's this big D-boy
Everybody's these hardcore gangsters
Everybody gon' do this to each other
When they see each other
And the truth be told
We too blessed and we having too much money
In this rap game to be going
To war with each other right, okay
And the truth be told
Don't nobody wanna fight nobody
In this rap game
'Cause 98% of these dudes is cowards

Check, one, two the Butcher coming, nigga
Brrt, let's go (Doot, doot, doot)
We pull up, jumping out them V12 engines
Detail kitted females with us
The hoes driving like it ain't got
No seat belts in it uh huh, woo, yeah
That's it right there, yo, uh

We pull up, jumping out them V12 engines
Detail kitted females with us
The hoes driving like it ain't got
No seat belts in it
The block look like it got seashells in it
The beam on the SIG flashing like it
Got an unread email in it
They try their best to stop us
We still winning
I run the shit in my Versace
Chain reactions 'til my feet swell in 'em
Gold digger, deep pussy, I park the CL in it
Never pay for pussy
Just pay for meals just to be fair with her
I hit the brakes, but wait
The light 'bout to change
Realizing what I'm driving and how
My life 'bout to change when I die
Go to TV Johnny and ice out the grave
I make these bitches sign contracts
And write out they names
Shit, I learned from how Juanita
Tricked Mike out his change
Huh, my ex shared
I still ain't get the lights out her name
And the feds want the whole
BSF wiped out the game
'Cause what the grams cost
I been getting twice out in Maine
My watch look like a
Lighthouse, that's right, i'll explain
Blue faces, and I ain't have 'em bring
The price down to pay
I had some young niggas slide through
With pipes 'round your way
Have 'em posted up with sticks like
It's a strike 'round your way, uh
You can only judge me by who you see me with
I turned a deuce to a six, did Houdini tricks
Tell these niggas keep my name
Out they greedy lips, uh
'Cause they don't want no static
With Griselda by Fashion Rebels
The Butcher, nigga