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Uh, yeah, the Butcher coming, nigga I walk in the room, niggas can feel the pressure when I walk in, nigga Like you saw the devil, yo, look I was bron in '84, but I’m like '97 Hov I went platinum off a brick, I cooked on 97 stoves Yeah, I know the streets is watching so I'm highly skeptical Where I’m at in my career, one hit and I'll be set to go, uh Duct tape for the blocks, black tape for the strap Bentley in the parking lot, ash tray full of pack Had dreams of retiring and burying the money Back when I was young with more experience than money On my Georgetown shit, rock the blue hoya When they snatched my niggas up, I got a new lawyer They start off young so they shoot for you I groom ‘em, soon they become their own bosses and recruit for you It's not a such thing as too loyal This gat melt your favorite rapper Patek down to a pool for you You think you nice, well, I got news for you I get ‘em chewed for you, what's funny when every rapper food to you My bitch asking me to settle down I was reckless selling brown, she know I'm finally on level ground I'm tryna change, but in my head it's sounds Telling me I can be El Chapo instead of Kevin Lowe Freestyle for Clue, I feel like '97 Hov It was ’96, he pulled up in that ’97 Rov', uh Letras de cancionesDrove it back and forth, done went through 97 tolls Real stories ‘bout drug money got me extra stoned, uh By the time they learn to love me, I’ll be dead and gone Real hustlers treat them rentals like they second home First double up, thirty dollars, seven stones See, I fucked it up, but that whole place set the tone You real angry You know why I'm mad? Let me tell you why I'm mad I'm mad because everybody on these records lying Everybody’s lying, everybody's this big D-boy Everybody's these hardcore gangsters Everybody gon' do this to each other when they see each other And truth be told, we too blessed and we be having too much money In this rap game to be going to war with each other Right, okay And the truth be told, don't nobody wanna fight nobody in this rap game ‘Cause 98% of these dudes is colleagues Check, one, two The butcher coming, nigga Brr, let's go We pull up, jumping out them V12 engines, detail kitted Females with us, the hoes driving like it ain't got no seatbelts in it Uh huh, woo, yeah That's it right there, yo, uh We pull up jumping out them V12 engines, detail kitted Females with us, the hoes driving like it ain't got no seatbelts in it The block look like it got seashells in it The beam on the Sig flashing like it got an unread email in it They try their best to stop us, we still winning I run the shit in my Versaces, chain reaction 'til my feet swell in ‘em Gold digger, deep pussy, I park the CL in it Never pay for pussy, just pay for meals just to be fair with her I hit the breaks, but wait, the light ‘bout to change Realizing what I'm driving and how my life ‘bout to change When I die, go to TV Johnny and ice out the grave I make these bitches sign contracts and right out they names Shit, I learned from how Juanita tricked Mike out his chains Huh, my ex shed, I still ain't get the lights out here The feds want the whole BSF, wiped out the gang ‘Cause what the grams cost, I been getting twice out in Maine My watch look like a lighthouse, that's right, I'll explain Blue faces, and I ain't have ‘em bring the price down to pay I had some young niggas slide through with pipes ‘round your way Have ‘em posted up with sticks like it's a strike ‘round your way Uh, you can only judge me by who you see me with I turned a deuce to a six, I did Houdini tricks Tell these niggas keep my name out they greedy lips, uh ‘Cause they don't want no static with Griselda by Fashion Rebels The Butcher, nigga From Letras Mania