War Wounds (feat. Benny the Butcher)

Yo
War wounds
War wounds
These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds
I'm tired of tellin' ya'll, I'ma tell ya'll again

Yo, they gon' say the money made me
I'ma say the haters did it
For the paper
We did more than break a leg, we disabled niggas
Don't take this personal
But I'm sure ain't a prayer can save you niggas
And God is merciful
But to whom is slave to those pagan rituals
Swear my purpose on this earth ain't surface level
Shit is deeper
The most rеalest shit I've heard was from twеakers
And non-believers, yeah
I put my sweat & tears into niggas
For many years I believed in'em
And I what I realized in the end, was I never needed'em
Black on black
We don't commit but we stay dressed in it
The raps I kick
You hear the death in them, most definitely
If I spit the first verse I wrote to this
It would be deafening
They ask why I mention God in my raps
It's my specialty
Ahhhh, you better call the coroner, there's a murder
'Cause I feel like Ja, my nigga, it's murda murda
If I had to tell you one thing you should always shoulder
The person you've grown to being
May not be what you supposed to, that's real
Yeah

So every day I have to deal with these war wounds
War wounds
War wounds
These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds
Yeah

Big BSF, huh
I made this shit look good, this shit really ugly tho
Uh

They gon' say the money changed me
But I'ma say the haters did it
I watched them suckers bend the rules
But what I do? Forgave them niggas
Makin' movies, I played the villain
Shake & move and makin' millions
Money callin', my line beepin'
I had to tell 'em to wait a minute, uh
Pillippe's stake from table scraps
I don't lie when makin' raps
Enough dough saved up that
I can pay the label back
Overseas tourin', I'm stayin' at a Paris Hilton
Then a few weeks later, a nigga ran into Paris Hilton
I made cocaine aroma smoke
We never got diplomas though
The president that makin' drugs legal
That's who I'm votin' for
You know BSF the stint nigga
These killers uncontrollable
The hip-hop police want my mugshot for these quotables
S-Class, the new one to model (Uh-huh)
Pillows in the back and the rug so soft
Can't wear your shoes when we ridin'
I'm used to beef, all they threw is some hollows (That's it)
Keep playin' (Huh?)
We got hand grenades shaped like Don Julio bottles
It's Butch nigga

War Wounds
War wounds
These scar tissues haven't healed from these war wounds
War wounds
War wounds
So every day I have to deal with these war wounds
Yeah