.762 Songtext
von Benny the Butcher

Uh, yeah
It′s Benny (right)
A yo Conway, feel like, feel like I got these niggas in my scope right now

Uh, fuck the fame we only came for the bread
Told my homie it's a bonus if you aim for the head
You point a gun at him, he gon′ say, "That ain't what he said"
Plus the clip in it long as Wilt Chamberlain leg
Lost some homies, spent a couple birthdays in the feds
I met plugs, not just thugs, I met Haitians in dreads
You know the kicks that I'm lacing are red
You blazin′ up reg, tension thick, you tastin′ the air, I'm blatant, you scared

Ridin′ out for my team, watching out for the D's
You ever stashed work in a house full of fiends?
You niggas just rappin′, I'm about everything
Need shooters and captains when you scoutin′ a team
Time is money, and I'ma need an hour or more
I leave the trap smellin' like gunpowder and raw
I′m having nightmares, they raidin′, huddled out in the hall
Same time I was flushin', they was poundin′ the door


When you tryna get shit, you ain't used to havin′
Might run into some problems, might use some ratchets
Might run into some cops, wearin' suits and badges
Never speak on what you saw, if you do, you rattin′
Real legend, and I'm still plugged in with criminals
You catch a case, pray the judge give a minimal
I send it through your loved ones when they visit you
I live in a town where the love ain't reciprocal

Rock your enemy to sleep like the drama dead
Then walk up on him in a Rasta wig
Who held the city down like a boat anchor?
I got smokers in the room burnin′ coat hangers
Smokin′ on sour, mixed with cookies
Revenge is the sweetest joy next to gettin' pussy
I treated the kitchen like chemistry
We unwrap ′em then we bag 'em individually

My intentions was good but the money was evil
I′m Bugsy Siegel, cuttin' diesel, layin′ up in casinos
I got a hundred clips, hundred straps, none of 'em legal
Tell on you, brick of C4 under your Regal
Hey, since I seen Nino shooting out with them Guidos
We go to weddings, and got on vests under tuxedos
You the type to get your shit took and run to a CO
I'm the type to get your shit pushed and run to Toledo


It′s like I was bred to be great, so this bread could get baked
Or your head I just take, my hand on this eight, like a man out his Bape
These rap niggas get more weird by the day
I wake up like, "What the fuck I′m gon' hear bout today?"
I was still in the hood serving fiends like CVS
With a bracelet on my ankle, that′s a GPS
They ain't beat me yet, fans still ain′t meet me yet
James Bond, hopping out that Aston Martin DBS

When you being mentioned with the baddest who spittin'
Average niggas hatin′, ain't you, so they had you the villain
Mad in they feelings, probably 'cause the talent ain′t in ′em
Not only that though, the passion ain't in ′em
Take it from me, look
My life way deeper than bars and hooks
Pawns and rooks, this shit really hard as it look
If these walls could talk, they'd tell you how the raw was cooked
And how we got to be stars from crooks
My first brick, uh

Rock your enemy to sleep like the drama dead
Then walk up on him in a Rasta wig
Who held the city down like a boat anchor?
I got smokers in the room burnin′ coat hangers
Smokin' on sour, mixed with cookies
Revenge is the sweetest joy next to gettin′ pussy
I treated the kitchen like chemistry
We unwrap 'em, then we bag 'em individually

Yeah
You already know nigga
You already know, walls closing in on niggas, man
Yeah
It′s me, it′s me
I ain't tellin′ my story in third person
Nah, I'm hands-on
I′m hands-on my nigga
Yeah