From the mixtape “Cutting up with Benny” Vol.2 Presented by Benny The Butcher (Griselda records, Black Soprano Family records). Track 19 “Bars Closed”
lyrics
These rappers is trash but they front like they dope, only spit bars when moms wash their mouth out with soap, yea they funny lookin too that’s why I know they a joke, trynna share mic’s with Binge fuck around and get smoked, it’s that other white boy who ain’t sweet like the candy-bars heavy and the bitches be fawning like Bambi, hands-free with knees that be scoffed up and sandy, can’t land a band on the gram organically pan-handling fans with rough hands on mammaries can’t stand to see Ninja slice through the canopy @bingeninjaband we span the whole trajectory specially with these writtens no way that they disrespectin me.
I’m like an animated Lyin’ I’m mo-cap with both straps-no class-hittin with both hands from both dads, I smack a bitch with my notepad and hope that she don’t recognize that I wrote that, always been a genius when it comes to the vocab and chef it like my method on my Ol’ Dirty gonads- no packs. Never claimed to be street, Yea I came up from the suburb now I kill on the beat, so what’s that say about me? I’m been listening to Benny for a minute now the general be listening to me, and during I ain’t expecting us to be BFF’s but afterwards he might ask me to join BSF, the Sopranos killing tapes like it was VHS BingeNinja/Adverb man we up next bitch!
It’s the dude from Toronto you wanna holla and follow call you out mano’a’mano and pop your shit like a bottle, I was sent from the bottom industry rappers is coddled models that pose with the stick then go back to the condo, never learned how to spit, so they opting to swallow auto tune turn up the pitch, then get turnt like a bitch, the shit hollow then they be like “yo that chorus is lit” I don’t fuck with the biz or untalented kids that’s why I’m straight up spittin bars there ain’t no chorus in this-man I’m bored with the mumble rap, I’m trynna get rich, I gotta do it rappin cant be ballin my fist, or palming the fifth firing off till it hits, I cant be making money if I’m doing a bid, I ain’t got a lot of dollars but I still got sense, and these fake ass friends? They gon straight up pretend, be like “I was down wit Binge since the be-gin-ing” imma be like “ehhhh, you was hatin back then” I keep my enemies close, toast to all of my wins, so I’m faded like a ghost they’ll never doubt me again, represent for the coast, west T.O. Till the end.
credits
released August 14, 2020
Lyrics and vocals: Shane Burrow
Beat produced by: Adverb
Mixed/Mastered by: Vega
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