B.E.N.N.Y. the Butcher (Benny The Butcher) - Acetone* lyrics

Lyrics From Snippet [Intro: Freddie Gibbs] [?] fu*kin' rap sh*t Yeah [Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs & Benny The Butcher] I was, fu*kin' them girls, I was gon' get right back I had a, line on that soft, I was gon' switch it to crack I stuck to tires like I'm fixin' a flat, swimmin' through racks Cooked my first zip, lost 6, brought 22 back b*tch what you trippin' off? Just sold a brick, still down to whip a song I don't even fu*k with the dawg, straight cuttin' fentanyl She asked me if I'm fu*kin' her friend, just know I'm hittin' y'all fu*k a opp, 250 round drums when I get at y'all It'd make The Shade Room if these bloggers knew who I'm fu*kin' It'd make the same news if the feds knew what I'm pluggin' You bought 60 grams off me, I'm prolly doin' a dozen You need a dope boy, b*tch, fu*k you goin' through wit' a husband? b*tch, I been on The Shade Room, got three baby mamas, I'm thuggin' TMZ been in my house takin' pictures all of a sudden Heard thе DEA, they tossin' indictments, they wanna cuff 'еm I'ma leave up out the country wit' fake ID like McLovin [Chorus: Freddie Gibbs] b*tch, what you trippin' off? 36 raw, cut that wit' acetone Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, get hard, they hit the crack phone (b*tch, what you trippin' off?) 36 raw, cut that wit' acetone Saturday and Sunday, I only talk on the family phone [Interlude: Freddie Gibbs] sh*t, ni**a Motherfu*ker's out here talkin' about, you know what I'm sayin'? I'm tired of, I'm tired of all these ni**as talkin' about their songs Dope sh*t, the drug sh*t, ni**a I made it to the motherfu*kin' Grammys, ni**a [?] [Verse 2: Benny The Butcher & Freddie Gibbs] I treat her like coke, get her wet, then hit her wit' the ice Reward a single b*tch that's faithful to a ni**a wit' a wife Plug hate me like I ran off with bundles and fu*ked his wife Migo stabbed me in the eye, hit a dirty knife for the night You ain't never been in a gang war if you don't know my life Feds got me up on the gang board, VL for life Big Rabbit got a package, god damn it, I keep a Sprite When Obama got elected, I caught a case wit' a wife b*tch, what you trippin' off? They know how I feel about Mach workin' with West Why would I give a fu*k? I'm rich already, I wish him the best Played the game where a brick get you death, [?] hit you less Judged for the number on your shirt, but it won't be Mitchell & Ness You like to claim her, the truth is, we shared the b*tch, so I guess I send her back with some cash in her purse and dick on her breath, yeah I make my girl a star too from buyin' all that yola Gang hit again, y'all hoes still cryin' in Toyotas [Chorus: Freddie Gibbs] b*tch, what you trippin' off? 36 raw, cut that wit' acetone Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, get hard, they hit the crack phone (b*tch, what you trippin' off?) 36 raw, cut that wit' acetone Saturday and Sunday, I only talk on the family phone (b*tch, what you trippin' off?) [Outro: Benny The Butcher] This for my ni**a [?] [?] ni**a ever gave me a brick, man I'm [?] forget you That's the [?] me, ha ha [?] district attorney BSF, ni**a