Correction Paroles Flights in da Mornin’ par Benny the Butcher

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Paroles

Real street n***a sh*t
The Butcher coming, n***a
(Yeah)
My n***a Chamberz in this b*t*h
(You ain’t been through nothing we ain’t been through, n***a)
Big BSF, big Griselda
(You ain’t make nothing we ain’t make, n***a)

Emerged from the slums, I had to get it off the corner
Rest in peace tats and tees is all on us
I still got fiends that owe me since back in ‘98
Trapping out their crib, bagging up on nine plates
Always had beef, so I stay with the Butcher
Four cellphones like Master P, I got the hookup
Mac with the extendo, 200 air holes
Quick to let it fly off funny vibes and weirdos
Black Timbs, bloodhound brim to the death of mе
Grab a passport for any jet that’s next to me
If I go brokе, I hit the strip, that’s the recipe
Ain’t 3 for 10, it’s 5 for 20, I changed the energy
Locked down, 52 card over push-ups
Now I take flights every morning when I look up
Could tell by the pendant, I’m still independent
Yeah them n***as signed, but they know we’re nearly winning
What’s up

I had to get it off the corner
Late nights to the morning
Take flights, yeah I’m on it
I had to get it off the corner
I had to get it off the corner
Late nights to the morning
Take flights, yeah I’m on it
I had to get it off the corner

Yo
This for Louis V that ain’t out yet and paper that I ain’t count yet
Them hitters pop up on you unannounced like a house guest
I used to go and gamble my strip money and bounce that
Now a n***a pay quarter-brick money for outfits
Higher prices for the coke and we riot when it’s smoke
Water dripping, jewels like a fire hydrant when it’s broke
What you know ‘bout getting up early, fire in the roach
Fiend at my trap, 8 am, whining for the dope?
I’m a chemist, n***a, I could teach science with a fork
Christian Dior kicks, Gucci tiger on my shorts
I adapted quick, I feel like this was made for n***as
I sold dope, tools, shot and robbed, and prayed for n***as
Y’all should be giving me thanks, I’m literally great, I’m rich
I could turn a hood b*t*h into Hilary Banks
I met a plug last week, now he’s sending me freights
Now I’m out feeling these safes like M&T Bank, yeah
My last album was in Grammy conversation
You ain’t lit ‘til you hit a b*t*h with Grammy nominations
Uh, the feds don’t believe I’m up from getting merch off
So I’m getting stopped by TSA with the search dogs
Let’s go

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