B.E.N.N.Y. the Butcher (Benny The Butcher) - John Woo Flick** lyrics

Lyrics from Snippet [Verse 1: Conway the Machine] Look, tell them rap ni**as we takin' over, had to change the flow up Now I'm in the Maybach sippin' a Spade mimosa Take the bid and make the quota with the bakin' soda Pray to Jehovah, came with the shoulder strap, spray his home up Wait, hold up, if I said so, spray your Rover Spray his folk up, ni**as good fellas like Ray Liotta Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Shooter sniff the yay, he need to wake his nose up [?], the ni**as over there be watchin' He catch a body, he throwin' bullets like Aaron Rodgers I'm lookin' at these rap ni**as like, "Is there a problem?" [?] at your head like Larry Johnson Kush in the morning, drink my 'gnac in the day I'm tired of hearin' old ni**as talk 'bout back in the day I ride around with two things, that's a MAC and a K Act like I'm playin', I'ma pull up and blast you away Uh, yeah, I need to see the money pile over My shooter comin' off the bench like Kyle Korver Hide the body for a month and left this foul odor I'm Kobe Bryant on my team, I'm the fu*kin' closer, ni**a [Chorus: Conway the Machine] Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up [Bridge: Conway the Machine] Daringer compared to RZA I'm compared to ni**as that'll stab you in your face with a pair of scissors Courtside watchin' the Wizards, Cartiers expensive Spray the extended at a man somewhere in the trenches [Verse 2: Benny the Butcher] Ah, I swing this MAC, I'm clearin' the fences Enough shooters on my team, not embarrassed to [?] The trap empty, all I had kitchenware and a biscuit I need a pile of dirty cash and somewhere I can rinse it This for my ni**as in the Fed max who pray daily My shooter put his mask up and spray eighty That's why he bury sh*t, you ni**as Wayne Bradys I'm leavin' with your daughter if he can't pay me It's OGs around me, real wretches My shooters real reckless, it take a lot for me to feel threatened In interviews, they askin' real questions Like, "Is you still hustlin'? In videos, is you usin' real weapons?" If it's time to clip you, we the ones to move I got the call about before I seen it on the news Like raw material, the seats peanut bu*ter too The whole gang be doin' life if we leave it up to you Everybody G 'til they get hit with a hawk Walk the main line in the L and get hit with a fork I had a clientele list that was as big as New York That's why the door on my bedroom thick as a vault The Butcher [Verse 3: Westside Gunn] Ayo, no bricks in the Off-White [?] The sh*t see-through, we rock it for the culture Bodies on [?], keep actin' like you know us Beautiful nightmares, we runnin' out of soda Rock so much Dior Homme, thought I was Kim Jones fu*k it, cop me an island and the Benz in gold Cookin' up a brick, then the kitchen closed Ran up in his locker, take that ni**a phone Catch him in his cell, my akhi sprayed him up He did it for some oil and a prayer rug MachineGun in the summer, still wearin' gloves Ayo, meet me in the mess hall with all my Bloods Inshallah, I see a hundred Get caught with it, I'll be home in three summers Get caught without it, might not live to speak about it My ni**a still got forty, he might not leave up out it [Chorus: Conway the Machine] Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Lyrics from Snippet 2 [Verse 2: Conway the Machine] Daringer compared to RZA I'm compared to ni**as that'll stab you in your face with a pair of scissors Courtside watchin' the Wizards, Cartiers expensive Air the extended, have you layin' somewhere in intensive Uh, fish whippin' in a big kitchen Rockin' KITH Pippens, on my hip is the big Smith and Huh, quarter block on the table, my b*tch sniffed it Sniff what you want, just keep signin' for the big shipment I say it one time and the b*tch listen Don't compare me to other rappers, it's a big difference I hit his forehead with this fifth, lift it I blow the ni**a out of existence Uh, fifty shots in them clips when I stick clip it Hit his body, had his sh*t drippin' I take over this sh*t and it don't take no effort It's my year, go relay the message [Chorus: Conway the Machine] Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up