The Sopranos Songtext
You're a real sick fuck, you know that?
Benny boy, how's your family?
Ah, not bad, boy
You know, we had to move my father to another old folks home
Hey, I got my own fuckin' problems
Yeah, yeah
Ayy, this motherfucker point like a pen
If you ain't independent, like if you signed to a label, I don't even wan' work with you, all that
Gotta get approval and shit for you to release some shit and
Gotta ask this nigga if you can drop and all this
Gotta get permission and shit
Boss up

Yeah, you niggas can't high-post and you know who seein' ya
How can you be antisocial on social media?
So remedial, drilled to the core, real as before
Too many cousins in your bed, you had to chill on the floor
Imagine tellin' older niggas on the court
Don't do that to lil' homie, fam, give him his ball
If your mama gave you a dollar, you could buy a whole meal from the store
Canned soda and chips, a pan on the stove with the fish
Let it land over the grits
He think he rich 'cause he know his mans owe him a brick
Go on a trip where the Crips and Bloods can co-exist
Let's go to Saint-Tropez, it's cold as a bitch
This the Atlanta Braves throwin' a pitch
I lost three uncles in three years, let's be clear
I walk these jungles beneath fear, and we here
I thought they'd be humble, but he weird
Still don't give a fuck what you say
I'm cuttin' up your toupée
Wish my nigga O went rap before he said "What's up?" to Lupe
Brown-colored new bae lookin' like a cup of D'USSÉ
I handled the work, embezzled my hand in the dirt
Been missin' they kid, I was hearin' them AMBER Alerts
Understandin' what hurts is pain-driven
All them days I was stuck in the rain that came with it
Can't complain, it'll drive you insane, we made different
In this game, gotta drive through the lane like Blake Griffin
Different game, same system
I'd be lyin' if I told you that I was that same nigga
You'd be lyin' if you told me that you was a made nigga
You still tryna convince these crackers we ain't niggas?
You still tryna convince these rappers your chain bigger?
It's that feeling when Michael and Quincy just made Thriller
Martin told Coretta he wants whatever that came with her
A killer, this that 2022 J Dilla
Energy already good, I don't need no sage, nigga
I ain't your barber, still could catch your fade, nigga
Modern day grave diggers
I'm a self-made nigga, I literally made millions
Stop playin' in my building, nigga, stay up out your feelings, nigga