The Alchemist ft. Styles P, Benny The Butcher - Massacre Lyrics

Yeah

In Polo and diamond
The cause of the cloud lining (cause)
A life full of crime is the cause of the foul rhyming (yeah)
Scale talk, jail talk
Smoking what the bail costs
Overnight hustler package in the mail, dawg
Cigar rooms, hand shakes, whispers at your man wake
Connect on the internet, re-up on the fan page
Block party, yacht party, wonder if your mans safe
Talks to the feds so you wonder if the plan's straight
Lunch with the lawyer, dealing with the under boss (word, yeah)
and none of y'all are speaking on the money that you come across (none of y'all)
Wifey wants you to quit, team wants you to go hard
Looking at the beam and the block you can bogard
You looking at the sky like, "oh, God"
Mad high, hit your man like, "Yo, god"
But he ain't give you no nod (uh-uh)
And you wonder why the fast life's so hard (yo)

It ain't a war 'til you wear a vest
Masked up, airing TECs (doot-doot-doot-doot)
That barrel whistle like a clarinet (yeah)
They say "Griselda" and they hear respect
I worked my kitchen in my spot
And up top I had to wear a net
To get here took blood, tears, and sweat
Stressed on that prison tear I set
Can't walk a mile in this pair of 'Seppes (nah)
Fendi belt with the red F's
Bulldog tucked down in it and it's barking like DMX
Rappers wanna make friends with us
I'm only close to this plate
And this blender and I shake grams in it
It only take ten minutes
And I come back with a bag
Full of Fetti, so heavy
think there's paint cans in it
These rappers never had a half-ounce (lying)
So why they rap about racks?
And act out these war stories on Vlad's couch (I don't know)
Stove and the cooker (what else?)
The dope for the pushers (uh-huh)
It feels like Halloween
It's the Ghost and The Butcher, uh