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out the game - philthy rich & benny the butcher lyrics

[verse 1: philthy rich]
presi on my wrist, it cost me 80 bucks
how you a real n*gga, but your jewelry fake as f*ck?
i really come from nothing, i can’t make this up
everyday hustling, couple dollars, tryna scr*pe it up
i really made a million dollars in the trap
and made another 5 million just in rap
the house 1.5, that’s a fact
n*ggas blew that pandemic money, they ain’t think to stack
roles royce cullinin, cost [?] some change
36, half a kick and 4 on the thang
internet beef, just words exchanged
i was really on that street with birds and caine
soda in the beeker, used to feed the tweekers
now we call it za, we used to call it reefеr
brick phones and motorola beepers
mama tell you gеt your ass home, before she come and beat ya
it’s philthy

[verse 2: benny the butcher]
the butcher coming, n*gga
sky dweller on my wrist, cost a 60 piece
i told bass i make him rich, if he stick with me
my uncle live by the bible, those was his beliefs
the dope game, the coke game, i was a [?]
[?] with a balkany, i’m up there puffing an l
got the kinda b*tch with me, i only f*ck in hotels
this the feeling that i got when i put those numbers on scales
but a hustler not a hustler, less he get him something to sell
they ask me ’bout rappers in my interviews, hmm, touchy subject
i’d rather answer ’bout how quick i can count all this money coming
and how when i planned it out, they ain’t think i was up to nothing
i just can’t help it, everytime i spend 50, a hundred coming
and you should know that
being a real n*gga, ain’t won me nothing
i put a n*gga in position, that’s that, i don’t get nothing from it
you got friends and enomies, and it’s crazy when you making cash
’cause the line between them thinner than a blade of grass
butcher
[verse 3: toohda band$]
the real turn to fake, that loving turn into hate
he was tryna feed his kids, they sent my bro upstate
i told my younging for you do it, better switch the play
my kidneys failing, doctor told me i gotta quit the drank
think about my n*ggas, chainsmoking, roll a p a day
n*ggas tryna trick me off the streets, they tryna take my place
yeah i got my roley bust down, but i ain’t touch the face
chilling in the trentches with my n*ggas, i hang with apes and snakes
[?] in the jungle, i come out that b*tch in bathing ape
riding with two pistols, the same sh*t he had off training day
we the kid sn*tchers, if you a b*tch, then tuck in your chain
[?] we don’t do no talking, if it’sup , we lt the [?]
boy your diamonds cloudy, how the f*ck you go to johnny dang?
he pulled up in a scat, but this a cat, this is not the same
brodie put a fully on his glock, ’cause he ain’t got no aim
lame n*gga could never knock no b*tch, ’cause he ain’t got no game

- philthy rich benny the butcher lyrics

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