It's Over - Black Soprano Family, Benny the Butcher, Rick Hyde

Gangsta

Brought to you by the Butcher, nigga

These are the real Sopranos

Cannon

Was takin' penitentiary chances, now they hit us with advances

Got them niggas mad, hatin', can’t stand it

Down bad, I ain’t panic, now I’m doin' shits with Don Cannon

But I’m the same nigga used to tote cannons

Hit the coke with Arm & Hammer

'Caine so hard, we need a hammer

Play the crackhouse with cop scanners

Known for sellin' glass, every gram I cook sold fast

Quarter brick and a vision where it glass

Runnin' from my past, Henny to the top of the glass

Won’t stop 'til I’m top of my class

Had a Glock in the stash next to a box full of cash

Hit a lick, used a stocking for a mask, this real shit

Rumors spread from the ones I used to chill with

Get fake vibes from niggas I kept it real with

We was ridin' four deep tryna kill shit

Blow a nigga brains out and don’t feel shit (Sopranos)

2015 was the year, no regrets, no fears

We was running through the dope

I turned eighty into hope

Plus I showed these motherfuckers they ain’t wavy as the G.O.A.T.

Now the label pay me for my quotes

Plus I’m flyin' in with elbows like I’m jumpin' off the ropes

All this money I’ma gross, I can feel it gettin' close

You can call me Raekwon 'cause I’m comin' with the Ghost

They was callin' me a legend 'fore a nigga even spoke

They’ll be callin' for the reverend if I hit you with this toast (Cannon)

I say the word and the apes all come out

Now it’s shells everywhere like a baseball dugout

It was grams everywhere 'til the eighths all run out

Uh, I prophesize my profit rise

I can’t concern myself with y’all like it’s ostracized

Every two or three thousand gave me the cautious vibes

But I been backed up

Soon as the ink dried, I was ten racks up

I’ma make another sixty on 'em, then stack up (Yeah)

Black Soprano for the win, nigga, fin

Better save more than you spend, stack up and do it again (Nah)

You was only good for a season like Jeremy Lin

Both hands wasn’t enough to count it, needed a twin

Decorated the garage with horses like Ralph Lauren

My train of thought still stuck on all the cocaine I bought

I don’t get into to all of that famous talk

Disposable cash

We unapproachable sociopaths

A run-in with us supposed to go bad, but I evolved

Now look at me, I’m a boss, gotta book me with all my dogs

Chose the streets 'cause she the one took me with all my flaws

Why listen to fools talkin'?

In kitchens, I’m moonwalkin'

Feds hate, there’s red paint on all of her shoe arches

Every house on my block was hot 'til I moved off it

Like Drew Brees, I took the lead with a few tosses

New charges, it ain’t over, though, it’s just beginning

I’m Curt Schilling

Lookin' from the dugout, goin' for extra innings

I turned my hobby to a separate business

Sick of those detective visits

Poppin' up at shows just to question niggas

Who knew the game ain’t have an exit in it?

I took a fork, whipped it once, when it stiffened up, I left it in it

Let’s talk bags I got in mind today

I wrote this verse in the shirt I had on when I signed to Jay

It’s over, ah

These are the real Sopranos

And like that

We gone

DJ Drama

Black Soprano Family

Well respected

For life