War Wounds

Yo War wounds, war wounds These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds I'm tired of tellin' ya'll, I'ma tell ya'll again (sigh) Yo [Verse 1: Ramaj Eroc] They gon' say the money made me, I'ma say the haters did it For the paper, we did more than break a leg, we disabled niggas Don't take this personal, but I'm sure ain't a prayer can save you niggas And God is merciful but to whom is slave to those pagan rituals I swear my purpose on this earth ain't surface level, shit is deeper The most rеalest shit I've heard was from twеakers or non-believers, yeah I put my sweat & tears into niggas, for many years, I believed in'em And I what I realized in the end, was I never needed'em Black on black, we don't commit but we stay dressed in it These raps I kick, you hear the death in them, most definitely If I spit the first verse I wrote to this, it would be deafening They ask why I mention God in my raps, it's my specialty Ahhhhhh, you better call the coroner, there's a murder 'Cause I feel like Ja, my nigga, it's murda murda If I had to tell you one thing you should always shoulder The person you've grown to being, may not be what you supposed to, that's real, yeah [Chorus: Ramaj Eroc] So every day I have to deal with these war wounds War wounds, war wounds These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds Yeah [Benny The Butcher] Intro Big BSF, huh! I made this shit look good, this shit really ugly tho Uh [Verse 2: Benny The Butcher] They gon' say the money changed me, but I'ma say the haters did it I watched them suckers bend the rules, but what I do? Forgave them niggas Makin' movies, I played the villain, shake & move and makin' millions Money callin', my line beepin', I had to tell 'em to wait a minute, uh Pillippe's stake from table scraps, I don't lie when makin' raps Enough dough saved up that, I can pay the label back Overseas tourin', I'm stayin' at the Paris Hilton Then a few weeks later, a nigga ran into Paris Hilton I make cocaine aroma smoke, we never got diplomas though The president that makin' drugs legal, that's who I'm votin' for You know BSF the stint nigga, these killers uncontrollable The hip-hop police want my mugshot for these quotables S-Class, the new one to model (Uh-huh) Pillows in the back and the rug so soft, can't wear your shoes when we ridin' I'm used to beef, all you threw is some hollows (That's it), keep playin' (Huh?) We got hand grenades shake like Don Julio bottles It's Butch nigga [Chorus: Ramaj Eroc] War Wounds, war wounds These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds War wounds, war wounds So every day I have to deal with these war wounds Yeah