Testo Famous - Benny The Butcher
Testo della canzone Famous (Benny The Butcher), tratta dall'album Burden of Proof
Ah
(Hit-Boy)
Money over fame, a real boss'll make his bitch one too
I did that twice 'cause everybody in my clique one too
Now I'm headed to be the best, then the Presidents, we collect
That's what they judge us off, but that's just the pressure of bein' next, huh
They ask me how it feel, I guess niggas wanna know
I chose money over fame, how I end up with 'em both?
I'm just a dealer to the judge, and a sinner to the Pope
At least could take two hundred grams out, dependin' on the dope
I remember doin' stick ups for less than a hundred dollars
Now we don't get dressed for less than a hundred thousand
And I never think I'd make it out the hood
And it don't feel how I thought it would
'Cause I don't feel famous (famous, famous, famous)
Ah, three Rollies, two cribs, six figures
And I still don't feel famous (famous)
Yeah (ah), the day I got my first brick, the only time a nigga really felt famous (yo)
What's fame to a nigga like me? You gotta think
'Cause I'm from the cocaine era, we extinct
I curve a bougie bitch, but I put a project bitch in a mink
She love street niggas, so we gon' fuck the first day we link
Huh, broken dreams on the street corner
I stayed down so I'ma probably peak on 'em before it reach autumn
Get in the booth, I recall it, then record it
And with this kind of watch, it's hard to be normal
You know this kind of shit come with the game
Niggas call me just to check if my number the same, damn
And I never thought I'd make it out the hood
And it don't feel how I thought it should
'Cause I don't feel famous (famous, famous, famous)
Three Rollies, two cribs, six figures
And I still don't feel famous (famous, famous, famous)
Yeah, the day I got my first brick, the only time a nigga really felt famous (famous, famous, famous)
Yeah, buz
I told you niggas wasn't fuckin' with you
In the beginning of this shit, real shit
All you bitch ass niggas who doubted us
All you bitch ass niggas who hated
All you stank ass bitches who shitted
I can only imagine the look on y'all faces right now
I can only imagine the feeling in y'all stomach right now
But guess what, you deserve to be there
For not embracin' real right niggas that's searchin' the truth
Benny the best ever, New York, straight like that
And BSF the movement, straight like that
You know what I mean?
Free, free Jackson and free Dat
And free the gang too
It's the Black Soprano Family
Rest in peace DJ Shay and MachineGun Black
Yeah, buddy
Credits
Writer(s): Chauncey A. Hollis, Jeremie Damon Pennick
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