Like This Lyrics by Rick Hyde (feat. Loveboat Luciano & Jonezy)
Ah
The Butcher comin’, nigga
We gotta turn this shit up
I’m the one— I’m the nigga that all these niggas wanna be, they ain’t gon’ say nothin’ on they records, though
Rah, ayy, look
Ask about Butch, I’m everywhere, but back home, I’m heavy here
For Christmas I’m gettin ‘all my bitches Chrome Heart teddy bears
Heavy stares for niggas who chasin’ numbers that I already cleared
I’m already here, I took over a game they shouldn’t have let me near
And I been dope since LA Gears and Pelle Pelle years
Gold Presi’ like a keg of beer, you know the bezel clear
You had a better year than me as a rapper, then you legendary
And I’ll excuse that, but anything less, I gotta refuse that, mm
We weed croppin’, no dispensary weed shoppin’
I’m V-hoppin’, got the coupe and the Benz ’cause I need options
Streets watchin’, thieves plottin’, cuffs tightenin’, keys lockin’
I wanna build after that time in the bing like I’m B. Hopkins, nigga
When my niggas pull up clean with them .30s and them things
That look like this, that look like this
Dope boys with ice on they sleeve, eighty carats worth of VVs
It looks like this, it look like this
Hitters gettin’ busy with them switches on they glizzy
Sound like this (Brrt), it sound like this (Brrt)
And you might get a little dough, but my whole city know
It’s not like this, it’s not like this
Violin with the Draco as the handle
There’s Ricky the soprano, hit a riff on the piano
I take shots when I ain’t open, they say life is just a gamble
My lil’ man’ll put you right on top of T just like a flannel
I remember countin’ up, little bitch was watchin’ Scandal
Keep your eyes where I can see ’em and you better not change the channel
Thirty plus the re-up turn a nigga into Randall
We do that shit again and get it chunky like it’s Campbell’s
VVS’ on me blindin’, don’t be dumb enough to try me
Leave a motherfucker in between the sheets like he the Isleys
Tellin’ Siri call away, before I hang up, he beside me
Even if they wave the flag to say it’s over, bitch, we fire
I got lit on my own, sold a brick by my own
Those days all I needed was a blick and a phone
My young nigga hungry, he just hit a lick for his own and
I can’t tell him shit, ’cause that’s the type of shit that he on
I be hustlin’, thuggin’, duckin’ the law, fuckin’ your broad
You love a dirty jawn, she fuckin’ us all, I keep it tall
Keep your mouth shut, fuck what you saw, don’t get involved
You’ll get a knife, gun buck or the saw, left in the yard, yeah
I’m on shit, so tell your boys quit like it’s Ramadan
So forfeit, the .44 hit like an atomic bomb
I’ll get you niggas gone, you get dotted, cross that dotted line
Too real every fuckin’ time, smooth sail like I’m (missing lyrics) [2:27]
When my niggas pull up clean with them .30s and them things
That look like this, that look like this
Dope boys with ice on they sleeve, eighty carats worth of VVs
It looks like this, it look like this
Hitters gettin’ busy with them switches on they glizzy
Sound like this (Brrt), it sound like this (Brrt)
And you might get a little dough, but my whole city know
It’s not like this, it’s not like this
They say Jones around, then you know the Butcher comin’
‘Posed to be on tour, but I’m out here cookin’ onions
Outsiders function when my youngins cut ’em luncheon
Said you want a head shot, nah, put it to his stomach
Send ’em from the C to the A like Andre Drummond
You say you want beef with us, we cookin’ up his youngin
My nigga’s summer end your whole summer, for you frontin’
Yeah, we rap, but we really shooters, ain’t no punchin’
This is BSF, disrespect, you see a death
Bunch of my homies got shot, but your homies got nothin’
You niggas playin’ Unos, playin’ checkers and this chess
Headshots, don’t do leg shots, sleep in vests (Damn, ah, ah)