Fifty One

[Intro: Benny the Butcher]

We gonna slow things down and take it back in time

Yeah, uh

We gon’ make niggas feel like this shit

Yo

[Verse 1: Benny the Butcher]

Smoking grapes and went to war with a poker face

Load the eight, get the drop, then we unload your safe

I used to pitch on my corner late

Fifth on my bulging waist, way back in those flip Motorola days

We street niggas in the race for millions

I ate with dealers, I’m straight ‘cause my face familiar

I’m from a place where we trap and sell weight from buildings

Trust me, this not a place you wanna raise your children

Nah, we don’t sell zips, the plug wholesale bricks

And got the crib with more rooms than a motel six

We roll Ls thick with gas so that dope smell stick

Heard they said it was they year, but that boat sell quick

Fuck riding in a nigga’s coattails, shit

What you know about facing that 5 to 40, but don’t tell shit

Oh well, it’s the most real when the pro scale is

Like old mist, stopping the Giants, I’m on my Odell shit

You tryna see how many cops I can outrun

Never been outgunned, but niggas still doubted the outcome

Your favorite rap nigga about done

And I’m still front line, I put a half in the pot and pull out one

These niggas talking gunplay, but they not about none

Went down for a home invasion soon as the drought come

Top of the line hustle, you not one of mine, fuck you

I got this hunger from watching my mom struggle

I been harder, legend that still'll shoot like Vince Carter

I’m nasty, my flow dirtier than Flint water

And being broke was a big problem, so I whipped quarters

Fell back, the trap bubbled up like dish water

Collect all payment or I’m just gon’ spray shit

Put a bullet on your hat like Just Don snakeskin

They said I’d be a loser and a failure, from where they usually’ll jail you

BENNY THE BUTCHER—shooter for Griselda, nigga

Uh, shooter for Griselda, nigga

I’m a shooter for Griselda, nigga

From where they usually’ll jail ya

Benny the Butcher, shooter for Griselda

[Break: Benny the Butcher & Westside Gunn]

Ah, yeah

Got sticks with us, nah mean?

Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot

Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot

Sticks got 50 in ‘em

Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot

Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot

We gotta beg, we gotta beg you little

We gotta let this bitch off at you

We own you, huh, yeah

Ayo

[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]

Ayo, ayo, you broke niggas still wearing Giuseppe kicks

Twenty-five chains on, I’m on my heavy shit

Face tats, my jumper with the KAWS 4s

Dome shot up close, your shit gon’ fall off

We the dopest, and the greatest, you niggas know it

My rhymes so wet, my mouth is Rolex

I drop tears in my Moët

The illest of all time, y’all just don’t know yet

Rocking Long John on the back porch, flip your whole jet

Fuck niggas took pictures standing over Pablo blood

Diablo in the mud

God is my bodyguard

He wanted ten bricks, already hard

Flashlight on the K like a nigga lost

He grabbed the rope, almost broke the slab with the figure-four

[Outro: Benny the Butcher]

Oww!!