Benny The Butcher & J. Cole – Johnny P’s Caddy Lyrics

Yeah, you know?
Tana Talk 4, this shit mean a lot to me
Know what I mean?
You know this shit don’t feel as good as it look (big Griselda)
I’ma keep it real with you (Black Soprano Family)
I’m straight though (I’m good)
This street shit made me what I am today
Niggas know I went so hard for this shit
I deserve this shit, nigga (ah)
Butcher comin’ nigga

This ain’t my story ’bout rags to riches
More ’bout how I mastered physics (uh-huh)
In the game, I used to train like Rocky
Catchin’ chickens (yeah)
I was nice but they was right
When they told me that rap a business
I had ten bands in my stash
When I passed over half a million

Come easily? No good
Don’t be surprised I outlast these niggas
It’s like they put out a smash
Then they gone in a flash, admit it
And then they made tracks
And diss us like that’s gon’ add up the digits (fuck you doin’?)
They showin’ fake racks
In pictures like that’s gon’ attract the bitches

That was really me, nigga
I ain’t have to act in Conflicted (nah)
Only difference is I’m livin’
And I would’ve whacked one of ’em niggas
Who knew that after drug dealin’
I’d still be casual spending mil’ plus?
Annual income
So here’s my manual and some

And this Eastside shit still in me
My ability to turn words to imagery
Prolly the reason they gon’ remember me (let’s talk)
Figure we walk this tightrope
With a feline’s agility
The streets did so much shit to me
I can never live civilly

I can never leave the scene
Without checkin’ my mirrors visually (uh-uh)
Come with that energy
‘Cause some shit gon’ always stick with me
They wanna know what I brought to Griselda
I say, “Validity”
They askin’ what work y’all niggas put in
I’m like, “What didn’t we?”

Problems that I correct
Through the obstacles I progress
Illogical for them to feel they responsible
For our success
Besides Con’ and West
Tell me who else I gotta respect? (Who else?)
‘Cause I’m kinda perplexed
It’s ’bout time that I got my respect

It’s the Butcher, nigga
Ah, let’s go

‘Bout time that I got my respect
It’s the Butcher, nigga
Yeah, Cole fuckin’ World
Griselda shit, you know what I mean? (Griselda, Griselda)
You know what it is, nigga
When I show up
I’m on ten nigga, not nine

On the night I was born, the rain was pourin’, God was cryin’
Lightnin’ struck, power outage, sparks was flyin’
The real one’s here, the young boy that walk with lions
Around the outlines of chalk where the corpses lyin’

Of course I’m tryin’ to revive a sport that’s dyin’
But the guns and the drug bars that y’all relyin’
Got these nerds thinkin’ that you niggas hard as I am
But that just mean I ain’t as comfortable as y’all with lyin’

Stretchin’ the truth, no, I never stress in the booth
They feel the pressure, me? I feel like I just left the masseuse
Effortless, how I’m skatin’ on these records was proof
I put your favorite rapper neck in a noose, never lettin’ them loose

Cold World, the heater blast through your speaker
He the last of Mohicans, no weaklings last in my sneakers
Nigga want me on a song, he gon’ see the wrath of the reaper
I’m prolly gon’ go to Hell if Jesus ask for a feature

I’m higher than niggas and don’t need a bag full of reefer
Some see the glass as empty, I see a glass full of ether
Collectin’ his bread in mass like he a Catholic preacher
Just to count a nigga cash, you might need a calculus teacher

Eureka, Einstein on the brink of the theory of relativity
Really no MC equal, feel me?
Cole pen be lethal, crib like an old MTV show, uh
On God, the best rapper alive

Headshot, now go and ask the best rappers that died
They tell you he never lied, nigga
Yeah, Tana Talk