Intro: Babs

Uh, woo, it's Benny
Nothing gon' be able to stop this shit
Ayo, Daringer, you smoked this shit
Yuh, only real shit
Griselda (Griselda)

Yo, I'm from a cold city, Westsides and Conways, ain't no Biggies
Where niggas barely 20 and rich, they all done drove Bentleys
Roll with me, come into my hood, where niggas know Benny
Hit bougie bitches with rich fathers, like a Nicole Richie
I touch base, it go quickly, but I ain't no Griffey
We rock stars like Bo Diddley, with hoes, I'm so picky
The flow simply just like coke, it keep your nose drippy
Unload bricks right off the yacht until the boat empty

GxFR, they say we rose quickly
They wasn't with me on them nights I was broke, really, nah, they don't feel me
Think this overnight, then you won't get me
You ain't see Conway when he barely could walk, hit from that cold blicky
Or West on the run, coming home busy
Before he did that stretch, we bumped heads in the Feds
Back in '06, we all spent time on the cell block, made the jail hot
Now the checks coming straight through the mail slot

And I can feel it in my soul, I was sitting in the hole
For that shit I whipped and sold, miss my third Christmas in a row
Real shit, uh

We're from the city of good neighbors
Where you can lose your life for doing your neighbor a favor
If you didn't know, if you didn't know
My heart belongs to Buffalo, my heart belongs to Buffalo
Street names so poetic, street corners dangerously stoic
Scuffed Nikes can lead to closed caskets
Dilapidation and dope fiends, yellow piss stains in snow
But every spring, roses still manage to grow
Hear the aesthetics to my soul
This that motherfucking Tana Talk 3



Credits
Writer(s): Justin Christopher Harrell
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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