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benny blanko - groove lounge lyrics
[produced by stercity & jdiablo]
[verse 1]
look it don’t take a real nigga to peep
i don’t need lean cuz ben a drill nigas to sleep
all my latest shit been sounding like a victory speech
but all i see is glittery teeth and twittery beef
papi still let the razor blade stick to his cheekv
down south selling 20 bags 50 a piece (u heard me)
y’all ain’t got nothing left for em
it’s benny , check for em or write the check for em
heard u niggas water whippin up some grams homie
i’m thinking kitchens but it was only a dance homie
man i got niggas doing life for this shit
i’m talkin 20 men and 30 men indictment and shit
look i just wanna know who really green lightin this shit
and is drake the only one who ain’t writing his shit (c’mon)
i’m glo’d up now the prices had to go up
a nigga rock a turban cuz a nigga finna blow up
i smoke big l’s still not a fan of the knicks
i like gold rings and chips and extravagant shit
i’m a boot camp veteran i’m a food stamp legend
shit got real we brought them welfare checks in
now a nigga eatin wit his gut out
middle man cut out all my niggas finna grub out
nina on the hip u could only see the but out
forever make it rain till the feds let my sun out
livin by the codes that the old folks taught us
still doin block numbers like unknown callers (what)
i got the groove back , i got the juice back
i make it hot dog , but i’m a cool cat
[hook]
i told niggas stay down and we could all get rich
and never show love cuz love will get u hit
so many grams coulda won a grammy off that shit
she look good but don’t take the panties off that b-tch (haaa)
[verse 2]
(wait) it’s benny, i’m still that nigga when the movie over
heard ya plug wearing wires drill em with the super soaker
oh by the way i write my own shit
i’m guilty i body niggas on they own shit
i’m filthy my bobby whitney make ya jaw twitch
base cookin got the neighbors gettin nauseous
i’m from where they get it craccin it get nasty
the beef escalade they catch you lackin in ya caddy
snatch you out the taxi , blood money tax free
100 niggas wit me rocking turbans like iraqis
isis , roll dices, niggas left lifeless
bikes wit no brakes coops wit no license
the nicest , we don’t do the hip hop beef
i’m from the north , son of sam ain’t got shit on me
i’m from the era where they had crack and smack for sale
well god d-mn now these niggas got raps for sale, talk to me!
[hook]
i told niggas stay down and we could all get rich
and never show love cuz love will get u hit
so many grams coulda won a grammy off that shit
she look good but don’t take the panties off that b-tch (haaa)
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