Trillselda

[Intro: Bun B] I like this shit (Statik Selektah) Nah, matter of fact, fuck that, I love this shit I love everything about this shit I love doing this shit with my brother Statik And I love bringing my real niggas in to do this shit with me Let's get it popping [Verse 1: Bun B] Say, I take this world with a grain of salt For good or bad and weigh the choices I make based on the pain involved Your best friend’ll clap you and stain the wall So if you can't handle that type of shit, then don't fuck with the game at all Half of my heroes my friends now and we broke bread The other half is dead, in prison, or cokeheads The best niggas I ever knew and the worst is So now it’s fuck bitches, get money like the verse says I'm in the rotten apple, gettin' my worm up Soon as a fuck nigga turn up, he gettin' burnt up Straighten his perm up 'til it's braidable Then leave his wig all over the table so niggas know I'm unfadeable Most of you rappers my sons, shit, I got a cradle full You don't get to play the bull if you don’t leave the table full So if I life the burner up, it’ll melt you In the streets with the Butcher, I'm feeling Trillselda [Verse 2: Benny the Butcher] Yo, I dropped the top on this Benz, caught the one bitch starin’ Don't get your baby tooken from you like an unfit parent Hundred-thousand-dollar car I drive to run quick errands Watch sixty bucks, so while I get fucked, I wear it Spent so long on this avenue, cops knew me Pyrex man, it was long before they connected the dots to me 'Cause if I gotta cook it, it's drop usually And I could whip it then so it break like grass in a prop movie Twenty-four-karat gold fork, even the smock Louis Ten racks for the fit and I’m just on pot duty Fell asleep on 'em after blowin' three, four grams I woke up with all my jewels on and Pink Floyd playin' Seen SWAT ride past and start wonderin' where they goin' to Then I pour some orange juice, then I sent the warrant through That part of the game left me torn too 'Cause in the trap, I'm a GOAT, my flip phone like Jordan's shoe It's Butcher [Verse 3: Rome Streetz] Gotta grab the bull by the horns These niggas be scared to take a risk and put the work in and get on It's plenty long nights, early morns Snakes on the lawn The paper chase come with heartbreaks and blood drawn Ate dinner on the same plate that I packed the drugs on Fingered pussy with the same one that I flipped the judge off with Got lift from a chipped-off brick Sold it all on the New York strip In your face, hog spit Fly nigga, get money, hoes, and talk shit Pull toast on foes if they enter my orbit The clothes these bums rock, I clean my floor with Was a rose growin' out the floor, now my focus is the Forbes list Dreams enormous, my reality larger Powered up, don't need a battery charger To catch an assault and battery charge on these niggas that's washed up All my bars avant-garde stuff Diamond out the rough Came up from sellin' dust like Snow on tha Bluff Tryna turn all my negatives to a plus Underground king, you ain't one of us Been ridin' dirty since a teen, got the beam on the— bluh, bluh Fuck