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lirik lagu trillselda – bun b & statik selektah

[intro: bun b]
i like this sh*t
(statik selektah)
nah, matter of fact, f*ck that, i love this sh*t
i love everything about this sh*t
i love doing this sh*t with my brother statik
and i love bringing my real n*ggas in to do this sh*t with me
let’s get it popping

[verse 1: bun b]
say, i take this world with a grain of salt
for good or bad and weigh the choices i make based on the pain involved
your best friend’ll clap you and stain the wall
so if you can’t handle that type of sh*t, then don’t f*ck with the game at all
half of my heroes my friends now and we broke bread
the other half is dead, in prison, or cokeheads
the best n*ggas i ever knew and the worst is
so now it’s f*ck b*tches, get money like the verse says
i’m in the rotten apple, gettin’ my worm up
soon as a f*ck n*gga turn up, he gettin’ burnt up
straighten his perm up ’til it’s braidable
then leave his wig all over the table so n*ggas know i’m unfadeable
most of you rappers my sons, sh*t, i got a cradle full
you don’t get to play the bull if you don’t leave the table full
so if i life the burner up, it’ll melt you
in the streets with the butcher, i’m feeling trillselda
[verse 2: benny the butcher]
yo, i dropped the top on this benz, caught the one b*tch starin’
don’t get your baby tooken from you like an unfit parent
hundred*thousand*dollar car i drive to run quick errands
watch sixty bucks, so while i get f*cked, i wear it
spent so long on this avenue, cops knew me
pyrex man, it was long before they connected the dots to me
’cause if i gotta cook it, it’s drop usually
and i could whip it then so it break like grass in a prop movie
twenty*four*karat gold fork, even the smock louis
ten racks for the fit and i’m just on pot duty
fell asleep on ’em after blowin’ three, four grams
i woke up with all my jewels on and pink floyd playin’
seen swat ride past and start wonderin’ where they goin’ to
then i pour some orange juice, then i sent the warrant through
that part of the game left me torn too
’cause in the trap, i’m a goat, my flip phone like jordan’s shoe
it’s butcher

[verse 3: rome streetz]
gotta grab the bull by the h*rns
these n*ggas be scared to take a risk and put the work in and get on
it’s plenty long nights, early morns
snakes on the lawn
the paper chase come with heartbreaks and blood drawn
ate dinner on the same plate that i packed the drugs on
fingered p*ssy with the same one that i flipped the judge off with
got lift from a chipped*off brick
sold it all on the new york strip
in your face, hog spit
fly n*gga, get money, hoes, and talk sh*t
pull toast on foes if they enter my orbit
the clothes these bums rock, i clean my floor with
was a rose growin’ out the floor, now my focus is the forbes list
dreams enormous, my reality larger
powered up, don’t need a battery charger
to catch an assault and battery charge on these n*ggas that’s washed up
all my bars avant*garde stuff
diamond out the rough
came up from sellin’ dust like snow on tha bluff
tryna turn all my negatives to a plus
underground king, you ain’t one of us
been ridin’ dirty since a teen, got the beam on the— bluh, bluh
f*ck

- bun b statik selektah

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