lirik lagu struggle mike & black soprano family – bonanno
[intro: benny the butcher]
yeah, ah
straight like that, n~gga
brr, brr, brr
i only know one way to do this
i only know one way
there’s only one way to do this sh~t
ten toes down, n~gga
like soprano mob sh~t
that’s all we know
you know what i’m sayin’?
streets don’t owe us nothin’ (ah)
we owe the streets everythin’
yo
[verse 1: benny the butcher & rick hyde]
i ran it up, did a quick, boy, numbers flippin’ like bitcoin
benz truck, with the kit, boy, and that one just my b~tch toy (hahaha)
it was d~mn near impossible, obstacles, i had to pinpoint (i did)
just to hear the kid voice soprano’s, go and send an office (uh)
my hustle, n~gga, that’s what i’m bankin’ on
i’m waitin’ on the money counter, while she put make~on
i’m debatin’ on a condo on the lake, somewherе safer, y’all
or invest it in a trap, a block i could print paper on
i spеnt weeks on the road, in green rooms, gettin’ blow (gettin’ high)
watch the news, to see who die, just to make me feel at home (d~mn)
griselda made it, hard to dispute when your bars are the truth
it give you the feelin’ of innocence that you lost in your youth
i pay for it cash, the chauffeur drivin’ through the jungle for me (yeah)
my man did five, he came home and he ain’t want no money
said “loyalty enough, just get rich, but stay humble for me” (okay)
i told him “next time tax cut the feds, takin’ photos of me” (ha)
now i’m in constant hip~hop discussions, they howl me when i’m in public
stack the g at a time, then count it up to a hundred (uh)
scary when you visualize it from nothin’ and then become it (it’s ricky)
i’m like ‘pac, with the rollie and thug life on the stomach, ugh
[verse 2: rick hyde & heem b$f]
i get chills when my brother call
he just did twelve behind the wall, all he wanted was the boss
it’s a different now, my mother gone
that’s another song, gotta keep writin’ all these f~ckin’ wrongs
it’s mr. how~can~i~get~a~couple~[?] (haha)
is it luck or nah? my new rollie like a lucky charm
so much money, need another arm (bank)
so much cut on it, that’s just for the f~ck of it, made a couple more (whip, whip, whip)
imagine every day, and nothing shot, bare minimum, nothin’ more
put a lil’ work in, now your sh~t’s secure
go get the baggies from the kitchen drawer (get the baggies, lil’ n~gga)
[?] on the kitchen floor, whatever in the dust, man, just gon’ be a loss
when my cousin sent them p’s ago, i was doin’ me with god
had to push to start it, like a keyless car (skrrt)
when you look at us, you seein’ stars (brr)
look at you, you n~ggas lost (they know)
four shots from the .40, have you seein’ god (it’s heem, n~gga)
[verse 3: heem b$f]
i’m stickin’ to my day goes, big gorilla, i ain’t ate though
but i got shooters on the payroll, they gon’ do just what i say though
get to squeezin’ when i say “go”, his arms swingin’ with that draco
leave you leakin’, broad day, though (brr), just met amigo, he ain’t quavo
takin’ off to a bankroll, off~set’s on the range rover (skrrt)
servin’ grams, then i change clothes, in the vip, sippin’ ace, gold
loui’s with the red soul, i’d rather die, before i sell my soul
i’m goin’ ninety, duckin’ state patrol, i just hope i make it home (dear god)
.40 sick with the laser on (brr), two revolver’s with potatoes, still’ll break a bone
used dough, so it m~ffled down
my lil’ shooter lurk the town, granny gown in the dirty pound
stomach shot, make a n~gga frown (fah, fah, fah)
watch him buckle down, it’s the sopranos’, we don’t f~ck around
[outro: heem b$f]
brr, they know, haha
it’s heem, n~gga
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