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Benny The Butcher

The Hunter

 

The Hunter

(album: 17 Bullets - 2016)


Okay, Nike Tech silks and Huaraches
Step through on the polly
George Jeffer' with ya bottom, better spoon [?] wasabi
Throwing [?] like berettas, let 'em shoot like a homi'
Build a cypher in the hall, bet I funeral lobbies
Let's get into it
Double [?] and double [?]
How I made mine to cut a [?] and let it roll
I'm with the same guys that juggle shells and juggle stoves
Know I [?] lines
I juggle cells and juggle thrones
I'm out the dirt
Swinging at the Trumps if my Nia's in it
And still got the line on the pieces hittin
Live out the Stuy
Come outside and seem like what seen is different
Around the corner still got the nina hitting
Say hi to the C-list celeb who pen for the A-pluses
And work a bedroom like I'm getting paid for fucking
I'm here, change the discussion
Who want it?
Fuck, what the waiting for?
Either say the verse or don't say no more
Fuck with us, ahh

Ayo Zoo, good looking
Let's get these niggas

Yo, so let me discuss, tell me, who really better than us?
My niggas killing shit like, that ain't aggressive enough
Y'all shit weak, I kind of feel like they left it to us
Okay cool, I'll be glad to come and freshen it up
I'm Ol' Dirty in '94, bubble vest and some Chukks
You J.R. Smith in a slump, I'm Russell West' in the clutch
I just tell the fans the truth and y'all be dressing it up
When they thought we was falling off, we was leveling up, let's go
Sometimes I feel like the trap kind of curse me
It's flooded in my raps when I look back in all my verses
The D's pass by and double back round to search us
'Cause I get birds on the arm like a Matt Ryan jersey
Who ready to play? I'll slide broad day in the morning
Spitting hot shit early like Sway In The Morning
At the West Inn, best friends making a porno
Chill and watching the Knicks play while I'm waiting to join 'em
You got a direct connect, that's major employment
Smokers steal from their children for a taste of this poison
And that's in every ghetto, ain't no way to ignore it
We gangstas, we get you clipped without raising our voices
Ride dirty, and break laws every day like it's normal
Strapped up, we wear guns on our waist like it's formal
And this verse right here, just a page in my journal
And you can't see the scars 'cause the pain was internal
Growing up in the hood we see the craziest things
Hustlas and ball players got the craziest game
Never our governments, we use the craziest names
And sons beefing with they pops like Baby and Wayne
The hunter, uhh

Fatto

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