Where Would I Go

[Intro: Benny The Butcher] Hit-Boy Where would I go? You know real (Where would I go?) Real big boss shit (Where would I go?) Distinguished gentleman shit Real street nigga shit, yo [Verse 1: Benny The Butcher] Jumped in the game feet first and I paid for my actions Hospital stays, laid up, related to asthma And all I knew was chase paper in a dangerous fashion Them boxes came to my crib with my name on a package Mama, I made it, rose petals and gold Chevelles Ask the team, we all cop gold bezels at those levels It's on my wrist and as well as my hip, it's cold metal This kinda game only run through your veins and your bone marrow It cost me, they tell me, "Be humble", they think I'm flossin' Shit, I probably am, I got this out the concrete I stood in front of buildings, sold dope brown as coffee Wearin' Barkleys, I just parked the 740 by a palm tree (That's real shit) Stuck to the plan from out the sand, get rich and share it When you a dope boy, this the life that your bitch inherit She wanna fuck me on a yacht and take a trip to Paris I buy her expensive shit and she forget to wear it Big dough when you thought of my block I bought a brand new pistol when I thought of the opps I had the money on the roll 'fore the water got hot And I still remember who owe 'case y'all thought I forgot The Butcher comin', nigga [Verse 2: Rick Ross] It's the biggest (M-M-M-M, where would I go?) Niggas desire to fit in, I was invited (Where would I go?) Pistol whipped a few niggas, he got indicted (Where would I go?) When you face a few years, it's time to fight it I shoot the prosecutor right back, Johnny Unitas Perry Mason, Gary Payton The double M nigga, I live amazin' (M-M—) Dope boy alumni, such a classy unit All double R's at the class reunion Pistol heavy, the money bagger The bitches at me, up the ladder Franchise, it's rappers that can't size us Bitches flew out of state, just to stand beside us For a selfie, that boy wealthy Four floor condos, that nigga selfish Waterfalls and all, deep in the cells I speak with my heart, I rarely talk a lot Went from Ford to Ferrari, look at the parkin' lot Seatbelts never, that's a common law 'Cause when the shots fired, fat boy hoppin' out It's time to explain just what your songs 'bout 'Cause when your homie got shot up, you cut your phone off Only way I go is where I wanna be My niggas all on top, it's what I wanna see My kids in the mansion, it got a hundred rooms Playin' hide and seek for weeks, what you wanna do? Always talkin' coke and man, I sold the most 'Til all my niggas broke, Belaire Rose we toast Always keep your word and keep your mama close You ride for your brother, teach your son the ropes You never want it back, a blessing get the most That Rolex on your wrist, don't let it cost your soul (Cost your soul, cost your soul) [Outro] M-M-Maybach Music