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PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rick Hyde
Rick Hyde
Vocals
Benny the Butcher
Benny the Butcher
Vocals
Heem B$F
Heem B$F
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Darius Grayson
Darius Grayson
Lyrics
Demetrius Robinson
Demetrius Robinson
Composer
Jeremie Scorpio Pennick
Jeremie Scorpio Pennick
Lyrics
Raheem Allah Trotter Jr.
Raheem Allah Trotter Jr.
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Shay
DJ Shay
Producer

Lirik

Type rap you need to listen to with your mask on Might take your breath away These are the real Sopranos (suckers) Look, I just spent a quarter chicken, now I'm worth a quarter ticket Put a quarter in my backies, give a quarter to my bitches Ever since a quarter century, I been rakin' up the digits All these dollars out of quarters, I should give a course in vendin' Brought the razorbacks like arkansas, then Butcher taught me blend it (Whip, whip, whip) Turn a four into a seven, then you hit the block and kill it That's how I fed my mama and three other lil' siblings (facts) Not to mention my children, shit, everybody winnin' Took a gamble just to get here, the risk takers gon' get theirs Or I'm gettin' a checkerboard aka a big square Break it down in fair chances, then we goin' square dancin' From Charlotte back to New York, in Miami like I'm Ant Mason Black Soprano Family with the leverage is impeccable You rappers is unethical, turn niggas to vegetables (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Matter fact, nigga, shoot yourself with it, plaxico (Brrah) Shells hotter than Mexico, feel it on your chest like a stethoscope (Sopranos) I love the game, I'm from the streets (streets, nigga) I survived some murder beef, ever since then, I play for keeps (keeps) I'm shootin' everywhere the laser blink (brrr) Drums on the .223, shuttin' down the motor on the V So be careful ridin' down them streets (careful) And, nigga, bring your biggest gun when you think you're runnin' down on me (on me, nigga) I'm with some niggas that'll die for me You gotta look me in the eyes when you tell me you gon' ride for me (mean that shit) It's time to tell my side of the story (look) A nigga came off the bench, but I got rings like Robert Horry I made movies, but ain't record it Spray thirty-something shells, clear the scene before it get reported (out of there) Movin' cautious, I can't afford it Raised by them real trenches, catch a body and you get rewarded (kill 'em, nigga) Pushin' grams, tryna make a fortune Had a couple bad runs like the bills when they had Losman I need the rollie with the bezel frosted (shh) Havin' triple beam dreams, reminiscin' when I sold frosting Me and my opps like LA and Boston I thought of that one on the plane, on the flight from LA to Boston Sippin' dússe with the double crossers (don't cross us, nigga) The way we do you, think it's voodoo, so be careful 'fore you double cross us You run your mouth, my guns talkin' Place a bounty on your head, now you just a dead man walkin' (Sopranos) Yo, look They told me I'm playin' with fire 'cause I ain't throw my phone away yet (phone away yet) I'm in deep, the hustler instinct ain't go away yet (still got it) I kept a hammer in the bubble coat, on the east side of buffalo (Yeah) The forty made me trigger happy, my plug made me comfortable Hit the lot, then I'm coppin', ain't nothin' to guess 'bout this shit (nothin') I don't even know the price, I need to test drive the whip When you was stressed 'bout a bitch, my team was fresh out of bricks (yeah) Coppin' in Miami at the best west' by the strip (Brr) Your bitch hit my phone, and she don't want nothin' specific Hoes know I'm ballin' like the US in the summer olympics I played the strip 'til the mail came in, chanel fragrance, hell raisin' Nigga, my hood full of shell casings from twelve gauges Let's see who really rivals, if your city really follow (let's see) I'm in the lab, writin', ashin' in an empty henny bottle I had a spot in all hoods (all hoods), had my pockets all full (we eatin') 'Til rap made me more political like Pac before Suge This flow got me enemies, I don't speak to half y'all (fuck y'all niggas) I got weaker rap squads doin' features half off, yeah (hahahaha) No cops when I hit the scene, popped up with Rick and Heem Mask, no vest, just a mop like Mr. Clean, ah These are the real Sopranos Big BSF, nigga All my niggas is capos, nigga We take this Black Soprano shit serious Real shit Shoutout my nigga city Boy My nigga Rick Hyde, heem Ah, 2020 mine, nigga, hahaha Big BSF, big Griselda in this motherfucker I had to come clean niggas up, ah
Writer(s): Darius Grayson, Demetrius Robinson, Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Raheem Allah Trotter Jr. Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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