Benny the Butcher, Westside Gunn, Boldy James - Buffs vs. Wires lyrics
Benny the Butcher [Jeremie Damon Pennick] Buffalo, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Benny the Butcher, Westside Gunn, Boldy James - Buffs vs. Wires lyrics]
We on Rodeo, blood
Who touchin' my stove? We had to
Spray him up
(Ah, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot
Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
Visions ain't reciprocated
he hit the stem hard once (Ah)
Then he walked up the block
With a refrigerator
I'm in the Rolls (I'm in the Rolls, skrrt)
Knots on the Martine Rose when I pose (Ah)
READYMADE caskets, this work so good
Get the elastic hid the AK behind the masjid
Who made the sunshine?
(Who made the sunshine? You
Know what I'm sayin'?)
Next thing you know, he dip for one time (Ah)
Real street-nigga shit yo, uh
Track and field, runnin' packs
I'm still subtractin' real numbers
I took a loss and just had to build from it
Y'all broke the code
Threw dirt on gang when y'all spoke to Hov
That was reckless that's expected
VS cuts on my wrist big
Enough to catch infections
This Heckler on me protect the homies
Boldy and West
I treated my 40 just like my only connect
Who said it was simple? Them
Prisons strengthened my mental
I broke the lead on the paper
From writin' letters in pencil
This a process, I'm fresh
I just moved out the projects
Million dollar deals and still feel
Like I ain't hot yet
Biggie Smalls in a Coogi
Al Green in a mock neck
Russel Simmons my mindset
I'm old Hov with a Pyrex
What's the money worth when my mother hurt
Brother layin' under dirt?
We can forgive you
But you get punished first
Dope on a paper plate, thinkin'
"Why let the paper wait?"
I ran around the world for it
Just like The Amazing Race
The money counter singin' to me
Sound like "Amazing Grace"
Cooked a brick of big at a time
I was eight for eight the Butcher, nigga
Last three packs in the bundle
I had to swallow that (Hold the tops)
Vials of smack pumpin' while I'm
Crumblin' the loudest thrax (Good kush)
Cone racks, turned the plug around at
The Mountain Jack's (Still more)
Niggas who thought I was finished hate
To see me bouncin' back (It's on)
Touched a honeybun
Tryna trap me up a thousand stacks
(A big, big dog)
Shout out to Butch and Gunn
My shooter don't know how to rap (Brr)
Never filed a tax
Had to run with that powder pack (Hyena)
Thumbs still numb from packin' up
Foldin' 'Lato packs (Up in plastic)
I grew up on a block with scurvy niggas
Topsy turvy (All hitters)
Totin' Glocks with thirties in 'em
Sellin' Roxy thirties (Blue boxes)
Oxycontin, Percocet, I was poppin' yerkies
(Tens) blowin' on the way to see my PO
I was droppin' dirties (Remix)
Re-rockin' birdies in the trap
Half block of turkey (White meat)
The work come in a silver
Pack like a chocolate Hershey (What else?)
Need them pill scripts and
Them bows in total, pop a Durkie
(Moonrock) real nigga
Still posted on the service drive with purses
(Four-one) where we at?