Testo Over The Limit - Benny The Butcher feat. Dom Kennedy
Testo della canzone Over The Limit (Benny The Butcher feat. Dom Kennedy), tratta dall'album Burden of Proof
Yeah
Shit sound crazy, hit
The Butcher comin', nigga
See, the difference is, for me and y'all niggas, I really
Did this shit though, so I can say what I wanna say
Uh (Hit-Boy)
I do this religiously, and I don't trust fools in this industry
Mad I came through on a winnin' streak
That's me blastin' through your car auxiliary
They wanna John Lennon me or John Kennedy
Since I've been on, I feel my adrenaline gone
It take me back to the corners I solicited on
You know the ratio, when you from the hood, the only place we know
Only three out of ten of us gon' make it, though
Know President Trump, elegant thug
Year left on parole, gettin' heroin plugged in
Feelings ain't 'posed to linger, I left without regrets
Numb like anesthesia, feds want me subpoenaed
But nigga chasin' goals that I targeted myself
Some of my best verses, I'm just talkin' to myself
They won't let me live for shit I already did
Every time my opps need medics, the credit hits
I'm like a mirror, I show a reflection of better years
But if you break me, that's bad luck for eleven years
Every time one of us die, I shed a tear
Then look in the sky, I wonder if Heaven near
That was Benny at the height of the pressure and never scared
So the bond that I built with my niggas'll never tear
Only a few in this room, yeah, that's when you rare
Get a million-dollar deal and used to get rid of squares, mm
Yeah, I'ma push it to the limit
Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
Drop two hundred so they really know the difference
I'm in it like a taxi, your chick wanna bag me
Uh, push it to the limit
Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
Drop two hundred so they really know the difference
I'm goin' over the limit, we never pose for pictures
Live from the block, we came to remind those who forgot me
I really bagged dope in Versace
Ducked indictments, then got rich, that really shocked me
Even the FBI surprised that they don't got me
They tellin' me I'm sayin' too much
But that's the thing, my shit real, and these rappers playin' too much
Streets taught me, take it easy, never plan too much
Could only move a quarter, then a thousand grams too much
I'm speakin' as a survivor
The load gettin' heavy, I'm reachin' back for my partners
Stuck in them ghettos, it make you feel like a hostage
The ones that speak on my pockets
Can't imagine doin' a quarter what I accomplished
Around 2010, trap got raided by the sheriffs
Came home in 2012, tended to my marriage
Violated back in '13, broken embarrassed
2014, I met a plug off of Merit
Took my best shot, every time I connect, stop by
My driveway look like a highway rest stop, mm
You ever been gettin' money then stopped
'Cause the pressure of gettin' knocked conflicted with hip-hop? Mm
Yeah, I'ma push it to the limit
Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
Drop two hundred so they really know the difference
I'm in it like a taxi, your chick wanna bag me
Uh, push it to the limit
Copped the same day and got the windows tinted
Drop two hundred so they really know the difference
I'm goin' over the limit, we never pose for pictures
Griselda by Fashion Rebels
Please leave a message after the tone
Ayo, P, this Cecil, yo
Yo, I'ma have your money, man
Why you gotta be sendin' niggas down to the shop, though, fam?
Embarrassin' me in front of company, you know what I'm sayin', fam?
I'ma have your lil' fifty thousand, man, I apologize, man
Niggas goin' through something right now
I make, I make sandwiches all day, nigga, come on, man
Don't, don't, don't be too hard on a nigga, man, I, you know
By the way, I make, you know, I make the best tuna melt there is
Man, you need to come down to the shop, you know what I'm sayin'?
Instead of sendin' your goonies, man, '
Cause they scarin' the white people, man
You know what I'm sayin'?
You can't be scarin' the white people
They don't know if it's Black Lives Matter
Or a robbery, you know what I mean?
So, yo, yeah, come on down, fam, we talk it out
I, I got your money, son, really, I got
I'ma have your money, man, for real, man
But remember, you made it, nigga, you was tryna
Make it, nigga, you made it, nigga, you made it
Credits
Writer(s): Chauncey A. Hollis, Dominic R. Hunn, Jeremie Scorpio Pennick
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