Music Video

BENNY THE BUTCHER "EVERYBODY CANT GO" ALBUM REACTION
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Benny the Butcher
Benny the Butcher
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jeremie Pennick
Jeremie Pennick
Lyrics
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Mixing Engineer
Mike Bozzi
Mike Bozzi
Mastering Engineer
Bernie Grundman
Bernie Grundman
Mastering Engineer
Jack Doutt
Jack Doutt
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

All eyes on me, yeah You know what I mean, Everybody Can't Go This shit sound like some 'Pac shit This for us, man, this ain't for everybody (Classic shit) Nah, I do this shit, I'll stand on that shit, man Eastside boys, you know what it is, Everybody Can't Go Buffalo, Eastside though Black Soprano Family, big Griselda Y'all know my name, y'all watched what I did with this I don't need a trophy I am the trophy, I be telling niggas Yo There's a story behind that name when they call me the Pyrex Man Like them two bricks from Doug and papis from Kazakhstan I never sold meth but I know fent', a thousand yams You ODin' off this shit if you bag and don't wash your hands Me, teary-eyed and gullible, I lived it with a mother Who struggled through addiction, I know every side to drug abuse 'Fore life got this comfortable, it's been a few niggas Who still in they same position because our bond indestructible It go both ways, auntie spent a 30 on that rock And the nigga who served her owe a plug who thirsty for that knot The dealer who fronted that birdie, he murdered for that guap That was me, but now I'm currently trading currency for stocks I'm Wall Street-butchering, I'm getting 30-percent off top 40-percent get chopped, other 30? Back in the pot Ask these rappers, shit I did for upstate just helped make 'em hot When I invite 'em to the lab, they be scared to play what they got I'm the don of all dons, YSL and Bond No. 9 Living proof, sign of the times that hate won't bother your grind I feel like West' on Gustavo, the cocky confident side You look a killer in their face 'cause they say their eyes still don't lie I'm hearing rumors start to fly that we split the triangle, nah Any talks of that's maniacal, but y'all buy it though, why? I'm still that same hustler, fresh out the Ps that sign on the spot I guess I stepped on a few rappers on my climb to the top Who sliding? Invited or not, the violence won't stop We on that same time and them irons gon' cock, then them sliding doors pop My niggas catch you at that light then light up your drop It's like that, the last opp we racked, we united the block Long roads to success, they hearts broke when I step They reminiscin' of me, speakin' in morse code to connects Me and my homies passport bros, pilots load up the jets Gulfstreams landing in time zones no one expects, mm Chip in on jet fuel, the flight I slept through I just need a shot of tequila and Bluetooth I can connect to It's disrespectful to sit these niggas next to Butch So I'm shitting around these pussies just like a all-gender restroom Trips to Bahamas, y'all talking shit from the comments I'm somewhere off the coast smoking cartridges with my mama It's Butch, I did it solid, turned visions to dollars Seven-year run, three away from that ten that I promised y'all On "One Way Flight," brick rawer than Monday night I always been the bigger fish, y'all skinny pimps like Money Mike Still no license, running lights, I let you pick-, the gun or knife Chase said there's no one as nice and that nigga was fucking right So fuck you twice, it's Butch Big Butch You know how we do this, know what I mean? The streets still belong to us Yeah, big boys Big Griselda, Black Soprano Family, ah!
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Jeremie Pennick Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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