The Butcher Songtext
von Adam Calhoun
The Butcher Songtext
I′m eatin' at a Miami hibachi place I can′t pronounce
This bitch I brought with me
Ass goofy like a basset hound
She don't fuck dudes unless the transactions cash them out
That's about 100 grand a week, what she′s askin′ out
I don't give a fuck, it′s just paper, dawg
Told her bring her friends with, all they drink is Vegas bombs
Spike it with cocaine and fall
To a bottle at the painted wall
I'm insane, I paint pictures you can buy at banquet halls
Name a record I ain′t break, I broke bread, I should've saved it
When you make it to the top, your best friends your biggest hater
They′ll shoot you in the back of the head
Toss you in the back of the trunk
Show up at your coffin with some flowers actin' like they loved you
Fuck 'em, not me though, I′ve done too much for my people
And you get cut the fuck up like the shuffle in casinos
Keep the Niño on reload, no, a beamer with the cheat code
His nickname is Chico, he takes life, reaper
Pull up playin′ woke black Betty Bamberland
He was talkin' cash shit, I hop out, now we ramblin′
Hol' up, where you goin′ dawg, you were talkin' all that shit
Fuck it, bitch ass, motherfu-
Hit him with the hand-to-hand, throw him in the ambulance
Pistol whipped the man, man
Pistol kick like Van Dam
Yeah, why he talk so much shit but he the first one to run?
Need to learn to hold your tongue
I know you ain′t no gangster, don't hear no sound of your gun
You get fap-fap, fapped down, now he gone
Goons get to clappin' like it′s a round of applause
Now you layin′ in the lawn like, you know you fucked up, right?
Now, you can't walk upright, might as well say fuck life
Midlife crisis, have and can′t afford a Chrysler
Always talkin' rap beef, get tortured in a cypher
Bunch of little rappin′ fans, on some fake ice
Rent your cars from enterprise, try and pressure fake whites
Can't barely keep the lights on, smack you with my right palm
Don′t mean to be nice, uh
You can't say my name, lame
You lose half your fan base
Beat you 'til my hands break
Damn, look at your man′s face
Why you talk shit about
Me, Jelly, Struggle, Skat
Every motherfucker that
Helped you get where you at?
Jealous, catch you scared of dogs
Belly fat with skinny arms
You don′t really want the smoke
You just wanna flap your gums
Smack him, run him over, throw him in the Acura
Yeah, jaw wired shut, can't eat
Give his stupid ass a straw
Listen, I gotta stop rappin′
I ain't tryna gonna go back to prison
You tryna make diss tracks
I′m tryna show up where you livin'
This is different, change your shit
You ain′t even scarin' bitches
Don't ever raise your fist
Unless you tryna praise religion
This ain′t just rap shit, other people get involved
Show up, beat your ass, put that on one of my vlogs
With your gay bars, sit down, take a day off
Or you end up in a graveyard
Get napalmed with AR′s
You a pussy
This bitch I brought with me
Ass goofy like a basset hound
She don't fuck dudes unless the transactions cash them out
That's about 100 grand a week, what she′s askin′ out
I don't give a fuck, it′s just paper, dawg
Told her bring her friends with, all they drink is Vegas bombs
Spike it with cocaine and fall
To a bottle at the painted wall
I'm insane, I paint pictures you can buy at banquet halls
Name a record I ain′t break, I broke bread, I should've saved it
When you make it to the top, your best friends your biggest hater
They′ll shoot you in the back of the head
Toss you in the back of the trunk
Show up at your coffin with some flowers actin' like they loved you
Fuck 'em, not me though, I′ve done too much for my people
And you get cut the fuck up like the shuffle in casinos
Keep the Niño on reload, no, a beamer with the cheat code
His nickname is Chico, he takes life, reaper
Pull up playin′ woke black Betty Bamberland
He was talkin' cash shit, I hop out, now we ramblin′
Hol' up, where you goin′ dawg, you were talkin' all that shit
Fuck it, bitch ass, motherfu-
Hit him with the hand-to-hand, throw him in the ambulance
Pistol whipped the man, man
Pistol kick like Van Dam
Yeah, why he talk so much shit but he the first one to run?
Need to learn to hold your tongue
I know you ain′t no gangster, don't hear no sound of your gun
You get fap-fap, fapped down, now he gone
Goons get to clappin' like it′s a round of applause
Now you layin′ in the lawn like, you know you fucked up, right?
Now, you can't walk upright, might as well say fuck life
Midlife crisis, have and can′t afford a Chrysler
Always talkin' rap beef, get tortured in a cypher
Bunch of little rappin′ fans, on some fake ice
Rent your cars from enterprise, try and pressure fake whites
Can't barely keep the lights on, smack you with my right palm
Don′t mean to be nice, uh
You can't say my name, lame
You lose half your fan base
Beat you 'til my hands break
Damn, look at your man′s face
Why you talk shit about
Me, Jelly, Struggle, Skat
Every motherfucker that
Helped you get where you at?
Jealous, catch you scared of dogs
Belly fat with skinny arms
You don′t really want the smoke
You just wanna flap your gums
Smack him, run him over, throw him in the Acura
Yeah, jaw wired shut, can't eat
Give his stupid ass a straw
Listen, I gotta stop rappin′
I ain't tryna gonna go back to prison
You tryna make diss tracks
I′m tryna show up where you livin'
This is different, change your shit
You ain′t even scarin' bitches
Don't ever raise your fist
Unless you tryna praise religion
This ain′t just rap shit, other people get involved
Show up, beat your ass, put that on one of my vlogs
With your gay bars, sit down, take a day off
Or you end up in a graveyard
Get napalmed with AR′s
You a pussy
Writer(s): Adam Calhoun Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
