1996 Songtext
von Benny the Butcher

Rest in peace Machine Gun Black
Rest in peace, Lil Damo
Ay yo, niggas always ask me like
Why am I talkin′ extra shit
I say I rap like this 'cause I′m tryna keep you outta prison (real shit)
Fuck the radio, I'm tryna keep you out here livin', my nigga
Listen my nigga, tell me you are truth
(These are the real Sopranos)

Yo, if it don′t affect us, we never paid much attention
We busy, stuck in our ways, still slaves of tradition
Boys to men quick ′cause we was raised in the system
Worshippin' false Gods from a made up religion
Most of my close friends caught felonies in they teens
You either in or out, there′s never no in between
Never wanted much, just longevity for the team
Could have went to Harvard, funny my specialty was the fiends


Gold on my neck, that's what they expect from us, we kings
Got ya bitch for a pet, she just wanted to please
When she around, we don′t talk checks, numbers and things
That's family business, we don′t address none 'til she leave
Uhh, when you a hustla, ain't nothin′ ever out of reach
When I count a milli up, that′s when I'ma sleep
Until then, I got a seat for who got it cheap
I heard they 21 in Atlanta just like Dominique Wilkins, ahh

Sometimes friends turn to foes
I can make halves turn to wholes
I pray my ideas turn to gold
These the confessions of a burnin′ soul
The mirror tell me that I'm turnin′ old
Stress on me, the street shit done turned us cold
Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role
These the confessions of a-, these the confessions of a-

Ahh, you only the realest when I'm not in the room
My mother always told me not to assume (real shit)
And I got this far abidin′ the rules
A block with a groove, a Glock, pot and spoon
Uhh, I know she worried when I don't call her for weeks
Caught in the streets, I think about her fallin' asleep
Her oldest dead, her youngest locked up, callin′ to speak
She taught it to me, so she know, it′s part of the streets


Fatherless seeds, grow up to be robbers and thieves
Bloodthirsty killers with a carnivorous greed
Street chronicles, we honorable thieves
Started off coppin' coke, hope we don′t end up gettin' conjugal V′s
Uhh, real shit, you already know what I'm into
Real things, that′s what real men do
I put a mask on my face if my rent due
I'm just happy I don't look like what I′ve been through, uhh

Sometimes friends turn to foes
I can make halves turn to wholes
I pray my ideas turn to gold
These the confessions of a burnin′ soul
The mirror tell me that I'm turnin′ old
Stress on me, the street shit done turned us cold
Uhh, movie shit; I had to earn a role
These the confessions of a-, these the confessions of a- (ugh)

This is a true story of extreme violence, brutality, fear