About This Track
"77 Club" is a track by Benny the Butcher, from the album Summertime Butch 2, released 15th July 2025. The track is 2:50 long. It's filed under Hip-Hop. Full lyrics are available below.
About the Artist
Lyrics
Summertime Butch Big BSF, Griselda, nigga (Y'all niggas Don't got enough to stop me, nigga) You can't talk money to a nigga who been broke and Rich, nigga (Y'all niggas don't got enough money Y'all niggas don't got enough guns to stop me, nigga) In the trap with my stick out, I ain't goin' back to the big house Frontin' like you on, but y'all was just askin' for discounts Three hundred in a day, wait, that's actually a miscount (Hahahaha) My lawyer told me it's a half a million by his count (Yeah) Yeah, you know that's real shit I don't gotta check my bitch 'cause I tame mine It's time to go, and I just tap my Wrist like it's Dame time (Ayo, we out) In the pocket throwin' spirals, you know this game You put out somethin' hot and they won't Like you, but get shot, you goin' viral Push the Cullinan, the Muller hand (Skrrt) I played the game right with stash houses and rubber bands One hand washed the other hand, this year, we gon' settle it (Uh-huh) As veterans, we know that nothin' come before presidents Muscle don't beat intelligence How far I went in school was irrelevant Wrong one to bet against (Uh-huh) I gave my hood drugs like I had a degree in medicine Spendin' digits on glitter When the last time you heard a nigga spit it as realer? Got dope boys trendin' on Twitter, ugh I made this shit look good again I made this shit look good again Buck twenty in a Trackhawk, look at this shit wrap up (Uh-huh) Pick my niece up, she pointin' at my Piece and say, "What that cost?" (A lot) Your money slowin' up, I guess the streets got you blackballed 'Cause every plug you know sabotaged with a Hacksaw (Ayo, hol' up, let me address this) How I'm anti-Semitic? Was only handin' y'all credit Immigrants built foundations, these Standards that I commended (Uh-huh) If I'm wrong, I stand corrected Not to boast, but me and my Jewish lawyer Still toast over glasses of Manny Chevys Yeah, my right hand man rich, but my Big brother buried (Rest in peace) Went to my OG's funeral in all white Amiri (Ugh) Me and Hit-Boy got a classic, same thing for me and Harry I made millions just kickin' it like Adam Vinatieri (The Butcher comin', nigga) They wonder how I did it, I'm hearin' whispers from critics But the numbers never lie and neither do analytics Fuck all the naysayers (Uh) They say it's crazy that even my Bitch make more than a WNBA player, ah Let's go
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