Rapper Estates (feat. Benny The Butcher)

I pray for us all

In the immortal words of the brother Malcolm X

Yo, yo, yo (Maybach Music)

Backs against ropes, win a case

Then it's back to bein' broke, I know the place

Where the rats and the roaches would race

Now it's rap niggas' smoke-filled estates

Who envisioned my initials in the gates?

Confidential, but these bitches know they place

Count C-notes, kilos like I'm cuttin' cakes

Even Janet Reno know a nigga race

Prince appeal, poppin', sippin' purple rain

Ask me how I feel, I tell you I no longer feel the pain

Kill the game, that's three hundred for the chain

And it don't include the charm just to show you who the king

Hundred cars just to show you we at odds

That's beginnin', how you dress, to your weed in cigars

Stay on the phone, but I limit all remarks

Just remember we the mob and regarded as a god

They want informants on the clique side (clique side)

They wanna know how low the bricks fly (bricks fly)

They wanna know a nigga dick size (check one, two, one, two)

Even though they know I'm livin' big time (big time)

Biggest (Yeah)

It's incredible

Yo, I came home with a connect and got started abruptly

That's five figures off a chick and I bought her Kentucky

We did that twice, then invested in artists that's hungry

To change a young nigga life and launder the money, wait

No handouts, I'm goin' on three summers legit

Machine, Cutter, and West, and me, each one of us rich

Before I did it, they ain't know these numbers exist

A nigga left the plug, then blew up three hundred to six, mmm

Yeah, Forgiatos veerin', smokin' while I'm starin' (while I'm starin')

I don't gotta pick these hoes, they volunteerin' (volunteerin')

Jump out, diamonds glarin', flexin', why they starin'? (Why they starin'?)

I know you wanna take it, so that's why I wear it

I heard they wanna know how much the clique makin'

In this book of life, you can't skip pages

Got my strip quakin' off a wrist, takin' big paper

I'm really in the field, you just Skip Bayless, ah

It's incredible, huh

Been a baller but you never been a base

Just a casket for kilo in a crate

Pray for pastors trapped outside of the gates

Young bastards never tappin' the brakes

Dumb rappers never ownin' the tapes

Just tools and afterparties to make

More beefs and dirty bitches to chase

New shoes, expensive cars to race

Big homes, just pay 'em off at a pace

I threw in the elevators and sat 'em right on a lake

Been in moments the business was at a break

I'm at the fork in the road, which way, Hov or Ma$e?

New crib, now add up all of the bills

The niggas you wanna kill, another slice of the cake

More ice and wiretaps from Vice

Rep double M, they wanna lead a double life

Whack a nigga, need no receipts

Clap a nigga, leave 'em on the seat

Rappers always seem to be the wannabes

It seem like I'm the one they really wanna be

Rappers always seem to be the wannabes

It seem like I'm the one they really wanna be

Maybach Music