Goodnight

[Intro: Benny the Butcher]
Yeah, uh
You know what this is, right?
I dont really think y'all niggas ready

[Verse 1: Benny the Butcher]
Yo, I stole a pack, then I sold it back
Uh, we roll in Lacs and got fold up gats with shoulder straps
Its Griselda, bitch, yall know the stats
I need my safe overflow with racks and a yacht with a speedboat attached
We watched niggas eating, now we getting even
We watched our mothers cry, but that just made us risk our freedom
The .40 blow, you get ripped to pieces, hit and leaking
Have your family in this bitch grieving, hugging pics of Jesus
My shit the deepest, the shit for thinkers, reachers
This shit you simple niggas probably couldn't grip with tweezers
I took dope charges and I caught state cases
We did stickups when we was kids and bought Playstations
Treat your bitch crib like a truck stop weigh station
Safe haven, if we trade places, thats a vacation
You know the science, my soldiers riot
And the best done got finessed, I threw more curve balls than Nolan Ryan
Growing up, we was so defiant, holding iron
Chest poking out while I smoke the finest, you know you dying
Who cold as I am? You show up with me, you know you buying
Uh, I take one brick and multiply it
The realest shit of life might be the realest shit I write
At the Knicks game, so close, Im spilling shit on Spike
And Im killing shit on spite, uh, Glock 19 with the silencer, nigga
And I just twisted it on tight, goodnight, uh
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes & Benny the Butcher]
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo (Yeah)
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo (Goodnight)
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo (Yall niggas, yall aint ready)
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo

[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]
Listen, dawg, we really came from grave conditions
Ran the trap like offence and Im Lane Kiffin
Waiting on the lob, from Chris Paul, guess I'm Blake Griffin
The TEC shoot from AK distance, so I can't miss ya
Yeah, its me, I make these niggas feel like I'm a problem
Dont like you, we wilding, posted drinking right from the bottle
Rock the Gucci polo with the snake right on the collar
'Lo top, blue 9s with the white on the bottom
Niggas hurt, they in they feelings, they dont like how Im styling
Got a bitch bad as Rihanna, got her right from the island
I been in prison fights where niggas get sliced and then holler
We broke bread and shared blood just like we Italian, uh
We was Nextelers, now we XXLers
Making deals with label execs, our check mailers
One of the best, that's a bet , I dont sweat, never
I can read a sucker nigga like a New York bestseller
We jetsetters, street niggas, we just dress better
Eating lamb, aint no dressing on my salad, just feta
Gun plastic, vest metal, GxF Rebel
And we hitting family members, so yall know its next level, pussy
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes & Benny the Butcher]
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo (Goodnight)
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo , yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo,yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo