Benny The Butcher Supernatural Lyrics

[Intro]
These are the real Sopranos
Griselda

[Chorus: Estee Nack]
Touchdown (Hail Mary), Rollie face bust down
They want us to fail, but we up now (We're doing great)
Bucks piling up, goin' through the roof (Going ching)
Countin' dollars, son, you know that we in loot, uh (Money)
Street scholars with gold up in the tooth (Bling, bling, bling)
Five percent niggas showin' you the truth
The .45 will lift the soul out of his boots, son
Ghost Rider doin' donuts in the Coupe (Skrt)

[Verse 1: Benny the Butcher]
I'm just sitting smoking on this haze chilling, scrolling up my page
Thinking how the OG's is rolling in they graves
How many more gon" get exposed? (How many?)
How many souls are they gon' trade? (How many?)
When no loyalties exchange, that's how soloists gеt made
I'm a hands-on kind of boss, so it totally explains
How I put coco over flamеs before a logo on a chain
Still standing, only Lord knows what overcame
Feds still circle my face when they take Polaroids again
Fifteen-thousand dollar fit thuggin', hoppin' out of shit frontin'
I pull up to the barbecue like, ”Holla at your big bousin"
Double cross always from a friend, saw that shit comin'
Ten million shoot you out the gym, we call that Chris Mullin
Better use them two ears God gave for listening
Hope you guys paid attention, get your top scraped and blistered
The big league just like Jackie, 'cause I do not play with niggas
And it do not make a difference, not even rock, paper, scissors
Butch

[Chorus: Estee Nack]
Touchdown (Hail Mary), Rollie face bust down
They want us to fail, but we up now (We're doing great)
Bucks piling up, goin' through the roof (Going ching)
Countin' dollars, son, you know that we in loot, uh (Money) Street scholars with gold up in the tooth (Bling, bling, bling)
Five percent niggas showin' you the truth
The .45 will lift the soul out of his boots, son
Ghost Rider doin' donuts in the Coupe (Skrt)

[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]
Stuffin' dough in the full safe, sip bottles that's half empty
Pullin' work out the pot, had to tap on the glass gently
Sometimes I miss it
Hear me out, this rap shit get mad mixing (How though?)
It's some way attached to cash if they act friendly
Uh, I really done grown man business by age twenty-one
Reasons I should paint the city? I had too many ones
Flow been silly since Biggie was crackin' Philly blunts (You feel me?)
Money talks and y'all niggas won't give a penny up (Who?)
The boss man, who win a million up off a signature
And I been feelin' much like a villain since I been killin' your
Favorite rappers, your fibula crackin' if it don't been enough
When I hit that scorpion leg lock, the Kevorkian death shot (Hahaha)
I'm gettin' bored while the Feds watch
I brought a lord to a dead block, then on to the next spot (Hahaha)
Niggas can't f*ck with me, nigga, it's Butch (The Butcher comin, nigga)
The biggest, the villain tape, let's go, ahh (Black Soprano Family, big Griselda)

[Chorus: Estee Nack]
Touchdown (Hail Mary), Rollie face bust down
They want us to fail, but we up now (We're doing great)
Bucks piling up, goin' through the roof (Going ching)
Countin' dollars, son, you know that we in loot, uh (Money)
Street scholars with gold up in the tooth (Bling, bling, bling)
Five percent niggas showin' you the truth
The .45 will lift the soul out of his boots, son
Ghost Rider doin' donuts in the Coupe (Skrt)