Music Video

73 (feat. Elcamino & Rick Hyde)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Benny the Butcher
Benny the Butcher
Vocals
Elcamino
Elcamino
Vocals
Rick Hyde
Rick Hyde
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Demetrius Rondale Jackson Jr.
Demetrius Rondale Jackson Jr.
Songwriter
Jeffrey Clarkin
Jeffrey Clarkin
Songwriter
Jeremie Pennick
Jeremie Pennick
Songwriter
Rick Hyde
Rick Hyde
Songwriter
Vivek Mikhail Dargan
Vivek Mikhail Dargan
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chop La Rok
Chop La Rok
Producer
Rare Scrilla
Rare Scrilla
Producer
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Uh Yo, uh Shit stupid Uh Yo, uh Yo, uh Yo, uh Yo Trap back coping Maybach with the back open Fiends that use my chill spots just for crack smoking MAC toting Cash flowing long as the packs roll in Fuck these hoes, get money, that's my only slogan I bend the corner real slowly so the hoes notice I might drop another tape and cop a tan Lotus Niggas'll talk behind your back with they hands open That's why I barely show love The same niggas you roll a dub with, hit the club with will be the same niggas that'll set you up Yo, they killed Nipsey Hussle in his own hood That's why I don't never think that shit is all good I keep the forty on my hip and that's at all times Try me, I'm ready to die about mines Real G Yo, we really played the streets All I know is grind, get money, repeat (Grind, get money, repeat) Yeah, you will never be me I'm legendary, Berry Gordy in '73 In the white Mercedes Benz with an ebony freak Four years in Yale and still won't be as clever as me Ride with three felons with heat Feel like we seventy deep Clips on the table next to a head of a thief Fuck settling beef, I'd rather wet up the streets My brother died, my mother still not ahead of the grief So I need my cash up front I'm putting half in the trunk And moving to where winter only lasts for a month Huh, I used to put hash in my blunt Now it's gas, I'm talking five gram Ls and half of it's Runtz First you find the gold and grind 'til you reach that number So much paper, hire people just to keep track of it Met the plug, he wrote it down, told me, "Beep that number" That's when I made a bet, my whole team gon' eat that summer The Butcher Counting C notes Golden butter on my langostinos Rappers emo Fucking up New York like they Paladino Back to chemo I'm dancing on it like I pressed the emote Need a reload Go the the corner and just ask for Nino Rod and Pico Was on LaBrea for a fucking RICO Traffic be slow Long as it's moving, it's a blessing, we know Talking units Draw up a game plan and I walk you through it Thought you knew it Hard as good pitching, we the Milwaukee Brewers I wake 'em up, I'm the coffee to it You asked for it and they brought you to it You paid for it and I got it to you (Facts) It all started with the H just like Honolulu Every time the pack land, it's hallelujah Flow is timeless I hope for diamonds I'm smoking diamonds The racks don't die, like they they kids, they keep on multiplying I hear niggas saying the culture dying (How?) Look how closer I am They don't believe you like compulsive lying It's a professional secret How many you want? Five, six Okay Oh This little baby here Nine millimeter Ruger Thirty round clips Five, six hundred rounds per minute You could wipe out a whole task force
Writer(s): Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Demetrius Rondale Jackson, Jeffrey Clarkin, Vivek Mikhail Dargan, Rick Hyde Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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