Benny the Butcher, Conway The Machine, RJ Payne - Dirty Harry lyrics

Uh oh, this what we doin'?
Mmh plugs I Met, BSF gang, nigga
GxFR, oh, we cookin' uh, watch me work check

My pen movin' like I'm improvin'
I deliver Def Jams, call me Rick Rubin
Big nine millimeter or the SIG shootin'
Brains hangin' out your wig, you a Fig Newton
Pie cooker, word to Jimmy "Fly" Snuka
Tomahawk dunk on all of you five-footers, uh
Speaker knocker, this that 45 woofer
Slaughter guys
And this hit was ordered by the Butcher
Payne, more bananas than the zoo
Gorilla, and all my hammers
Got that panoramic view
You niggas gamble with life 'til
That cannon blam at you
Small-minded, blow out your brain and
Expand a nigga view
Raw specimen, pure medicine
Benny said clean niggas up
I'm George Jefferson
Black Sopranos, we workin'
Three quarters Mexican
Bars hit you like findin' out
Your daughter a lesbian we got 'em hooked
It's the drugs that they came for
Leatherface, it's still blood on my chainsaw
Shower Posse, niggas love when the rain pour
Sorcerer, the torturer
That's what they call me Payne for
OBH hammer, let a spark go
Got that big AR-Ab, I'm in the Dark Lo
Bumpin' Lik Moss, I pull up, then I park slow
Bananas and pineapples, nigga
No Kevin Hart though (Payne)

(The Butcher comin', nigga)
Yo, I got the green light from
OGs that fathered the era
But what I did with a pot gon'
Make it hard to compare us (Facts)
I wash the blood off the
Money that my daughters inherit
And kept the barrel so hot that
It fog up the mirrors
These niggas rap, so next time
We into some shit, check it
Look, I ain't gon' clip you
I'm gettin' your bitch pregnant
Up early, serve you 28 grams with breakfast
And I could charge tuition to
Give you my wrist method
In the trap five straight hours
Blendin' up fine gray powder
The fumes knock you out like Deontay Wilder
I call it get rich music
But y'all say albums
For niggas who got the long
Bids and lost they values (Uh, huh)
Look, it's crazy up in Attica
They wildin' up in Sing Sing
Me against the world like Pat
Riley and the Dream Team
Level three vest, MAC-90 with a green beam
(Brrr)
Dead body on a dead body, I done seen things
Ah, the ride back with the stress
Supply packs to your steps
But I'm taxin' to death
I used to wanna get a contract with the Nets
But that changed when I got
In contact with a connect, ah

Yeah, look, it's do or die, nigga, you decide
Last nigga shot at me and missed
It was like committin' suicide (That smoke)
Think it's a game? All we do it slide
Brodie on the backseat shootin' some
Shit that's Lil Uzi-size
(Boom, boom, boom, boom)
Yeah, only hittin' above the neck (Huh)
I stopped robbin'
Gave the mask and the gloves a rest
(Uh, huh) i flew to Cali just to
Find a new drug connect
And I still got a good rapport
With all the plugs I met
(That's a fact, nigga)
Yeah, I don't know why
You pussy niggas bother
Big FN bullets flip a nigga Charger
(Doot, doot, doot, doot)
Your favorite rappers is my sons
I'm you niggas' fathers
I'm the reason all them niggas
Tryna spit it harder (Hah)
You rap like you trappin', you made pennies
(Picture that)
We 'bout that action, we clappin'
We spray semis (yeah, nigga)
Connect send me the package, I made plenty
I don't fuck with no nigga that
Rap if it ain't Benny, motherfuckers
(Brrr, yeah)