Rigz, Benny the Butcher, Rob Gates - What Hustlas Do lyrics
Benny the Butcher [Jeremie Damon Pennick] Buffalo, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Rigz, Benny the Butcher, Rob Gates - What Hustlas Do lyrics]
BENNY THE BUTCHER, nigga
The Butcher coming, nigga
These niggas, these niggas
Ain't prepared for
For the wrath I'm gonna bring
Uh, you stood in front of a fire
That's how you sharpen blades
They was on them jets and I
Was still getting caught and raised
I stuck to the script, I had a part to play
On these mics talking greasy
Like I'm Charlamagne
My old bitch say we should talk more
I found a better one, then I deaded her
And know that was a smart call
They hit my homie, got my heart sore
Raw caine got my name on
The DEA's chalk board
Yeah, my only comp in the mirror
No matter what critics say
Or how many times they compare us
Bought a watch
Haters counting how many times I'ma wear it
I was pitiching in the
City like Mariano Rovero real low shit
We sold powder outa Alero's
I did magic with that rock
Like the Penny Hardaway era
Clip tall as Shaq, bricks all in stacks
I whip portions back
My wrist did all of that
Shit, that's what hustlers do
I'm hustlin' nigga
If not that I'm busting at you
What's the point of telling a story if
Ain't none of it is true?
Some niggas lean on coke and some heroin too
It take mental stability to
Weather this intensities
Where you gotta watch you mans
More than your enemies
All I know is I'm gon' eat
Bars in these streets
I'm from the south side of the
Roc where niggas get shot
Like I'm done talking
When I get back my gun sparking
That nigga moving, shit he's still alive
My shit echo on the Chi streets, it's a five
Yeah, come take a seat in my office
I don't want to talk to you
I wanna speak to your bosses
Six feet for the coffin
My hand deep in the faucet
Hammer old but I bought it
My shit be shooting retarded
At seventeen, I lost it
I was all in the street
Played the corner with crack
Thought it was all I could be
Now look, I seen twenty-eight
Try make it straight
But I keep coming short, nigga keep taking
Your mother found out you're dead
I bet she won't take it great
Bet I won't leave your crib
Without taking out the safe
Look, shot hit's your neck
With all disrespect
A few inches to the left
Your shit would've disconnect
Shit, that's what hustlers do
I'm hustlin' nigga
If not that I'm busting at you
What's the point of telling a story
If ain't none of it true
Some niggas lean on coke and some heroin too
I take mental stability to
Weather this intensities
Where you gotta watch you mans
More than your enemies
All I know is I'm gon' eat
Bars in these streets
The Butcher coming, nigga
These niggas, these niggas
Ain't prepared for
For the wrath I'm gonna bring
Uh, you stood in front of a fire
That's how you sharpen blades
They was on them jets and I
Was still getting caught and raised
I stuck to the script, I had a part to play
On these mics talking greasy
Like I'm Charlamagne
My old bitch say we should talk more
I found a better one, then I deaded her
And know that was a smart call
They hit my homie, got my heart sore
Raw caine got my name on
The DEA's chalk board
Yeah, my only comp in the mirror
No matter what critics say
Or how many times they compare us
Bought a watch
Haters counting how many times I'ma wear it
I was pitiching in the
City like Mariano Rovero real low shit
We sold powder outa Alero's
I did magic with that rock
Like the Penny Hardaway era
Clip tall as Shaq, bricks all in stacks
I whip portions back
My wrist did all of that
Shit, that's what hustlers do
I'm hustlin' nigga
If not that I'm busting at you
What's the point of telling a story if
Ain't none of it is true?
Some niggas lean on coke and some heroin too
It take mental stability to
Weather this intensities
Where you gotta watch you mans
More than your enemies
All I know is I'm gon' eat
Bars in these streets
I'm from the south side of the
Roc where niggas get shot
Like I'm done talking
When I get back my gun sparking
That nigga moving, shit he's still alive
My shit echo on the Chi streets, it's a five
Yeah, come take a seat in my office
I don't want to talk to you
I wanna speak to your bosses
Six feet for the coffin
My hand deep in the faucet
Hammer old but I bought it
My shit be shooting retarded
At seventeen, I lost it
I was all in the street
Played the corner with crack
Thought it was all I could be
Now look, I seen twenty-eight
Try make it straight
But I keep coming short, nigga keep taking
Your mother found out you're dead
I bet she won't take it great
Bet I won't leave your crib
Without taking out the safe
Look, shot hit's your neck
With all disrespect
A few inches to the left
Your shit would've disconnect
Shit, that's what hustlers do
I'm hustlin' nigga
If not that I'm busting at you
What's the point of telling a story
If ain't none of it true
Some niggas lean on coke and some heroin too
I take mental stability to
Weather this intensities
Where you gotta watch you mans
More than your enemies
All I know is I'm gon' eat
Bars in these streets