album cover
artist
Berner, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon & Killer Mike
The Source
821
On Tour
Hip-Hop/Rap
The Source was released on November 11, 2024 by Bern One Entertainment LLC as a part of the album HOFFA
album cover
AlbumHOFFA
Release DateNovember 11, 2024
LabelBern One Entertainment LLC
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM77

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Berner
Berner
Vocals
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
Raekwon
Raekwon
Vocals
Killer Mike
Killer Mike
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Gilbert Anthony Milam Jr.
Gilbert Anthony Milam Jr.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Sap
Sap
Producer
Max Perry
Max Perry
Producer
Cozmo
Cozmo
Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]
This shit's wild, though, Sap on the beat
(The Innovators)
The junior, they ain't try take a motherfucker down, though
(Sap is on the—)
Huh?
[Verse 1]
Consistency is key, this is album forty-three (Forty-three)
Almost sold my catalogue, then put it back in the streets (Back in the streets)
Remember bitches choosin' up and tryna hand me a fee (Wow)
I'm tryna go public now and buy some land for the team (For the whole crew)
Back in 2009, I had my hands in the cream (In the coke)
And now we sell stock instead of blocks, imagine the dream (Can you imagine?)
Remember my first Benz, when they hand me them keys
I smoked that bitch out, then flew to Atlanta with Fee
Filled that box up, made the mail hot when we popped up (When we popped up)
Granddaddy Purp in '06, we were guaped up (We were guaped up)
Had to open shop up, eighteen-wheelers, did that (We did that)
Even did the planes before the Instagram pic app
They probably got my shit tapped, I'm mobile in the industry (In the game)
Dispensaries, deliveries, the source, no hidden fees (No hidden fees)
Twist somethin', heard they plottin', shoot your shot, cousin (Shoot your shot, cousin)
Clickbait, anything to get your shop buzzin' (Get your shop buzzin')
Top ten, they waitin' for me to drop somethin' (They want a drop)
Stop frontin', they all cap
Got lil' cake, my money ride, that shit fall back, but fall's back (Yeah)
Mixed light and full suns, got all that (We got all that)
Yeah, you fuckin' with the GOAT (The GOAT)
Grabbed the game by the throat and gave my competition rope (Ah)
Hang yourself in the alley, bet you wish you never spoke (I bet you)
It's 2024 and we comin' for the smoke (Yeah, yo)
[Verse 2]
I remember suede fronts and Caddies
Young bitches with fatties
Used to call me by my name, now they call me Daddy
Time flies, from mailboxes with cut-up dimes
No more standin' outside clubs, I cut the line
My vision is dope (Yeah), but I'm colorblind
All I see is green like have my money on time
Charleston blazers, cobblestone bracelets
Lion-head Cubans, every move is tenacious
Stones on Everest, see my face in the glacier
Indiana Tone, that don't mean I'm a Pacer
That don't mean I'm a hater
That's your queen? I would lace her
Come up short on that bread, I will have to erase you
These is tales from old opium mountains from Afghanistan
Camouflage hoodies, gripped up, the mass is tan
Range Rovers, seatbelts with elastic bands
Movin' on your terrain, arms stretched like Plastic Man
[Verse 3]
Helmut Lang plates and gates we was choppin' on
Dreamin' 'bout crops and yachts, eatin' lobsters wrong
Fishin' for mils, tryna adapt, that's facts
Watchin' real **** follow the blueprints, then black
Brolic force, the Porsche glow, check my exotic horse
5'3", black hair, tits and thighs, I fly to Boston
Kick off from lames, lightin' flames of Hashstoria
You know, just fiendin' off the strains
On the float to Namibia, then hit India
Me and Berner, we ghost, flip the Fendi luggage
Pools get sucked in, constructions on boats slow
Capes and durags on, black tux, woah
GOATs for decades, that's us, don't discuss bars
No cars, only Boeing buses, flows lustrous
I write for lifers that's caged in who blaze men
Humble humility, follow Rae's gem
[Verse 4]
Ayy, man, Killer like I'm Ghostface, custom-made wallet shit
I tried that monogamy, it's lame, I'm on some poly shit
Twenty-four-karat gold, Australian and a Bali bitch
My Parisian chick got big old titties on some Dolly shit
I'm standin', smokin' kush on the terrace way out in Paris
**** so dope and darin', I pray that I never perish
I made it through hell, fought tooth and nail just to prevail
Came up and fell, success at its best was slow as a snail
I'm Mike Tyson minus Cus D'Amato, my heart is hollow
Covered in rose-gold rosaries plus Porsche upholstery
In a row, back the stove, neck full of diamonds and goldery
The cars Pro-Touring, the hoodie is grand couturier
And the pants is Ralph Lauren, the pretty bitches is snorin'
You know what? It ain't no stoppin' us
The dope boys, we popular with the populous
Overlook this metropolis
Street scholarship, I wrote my way into prosperous
I rapped my way out of poverty
Fuck a lottery and a robbery
I leveraged my discography, used money, buy up properties
I refuse to be a mockery
And have you lame **** mockin' me
Written by: Berner

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