Fifty One lyrics

[Intro: Benny the Butcher]
We gonna slow things down and take it back in time
Yeah, uh
We gon’ make n*ggas feel like this sh*t
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 n*ggas 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
f*ck riding in a n*gga’s coattails, sh*t
What you know about facing that 5 to 40, but don’t tell sh*t
Oh well, it’s the most real when the pro scale is
Like old mist, stopping the Giants, I’m on my Odell sh*t
You tryna see how many cops I can outrun
Never been outgunned, but n*ggas still doubted the outcome
Your favorite rap n*gga about done
And I’m still front line, I put a half in the pot and pull out one
These n*ggas 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, f*ck 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 sh*t
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, n*gga
Uh, shooter for Griselda, n*gga
I’m a shooter for Griselda, n*gga
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 b*tch off at you
We own you, huh, yeah
Ayo

[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, ayo, you broke n*ggas still wearing Giuseppe kicks
Twenty-five chains on, I’m on my heavy sh*t
Face tats, my jumper with the KAWS 4s
Dome shot up close, your sh*t gon’ fall off
We the dopest, and the greatest, you n*ggas 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
f*ck n*ggas took pictures standing over Boblo Blood
Diablo in the mud
God is my bodyguard
He wanted ten bricks, already hard
Flashlight on the K like a n*gga lost
He grabbed the rope, almost broke the slab with the fifty one
[Outro: Benny the Butcher]
Oww!!