Back to Top

Benny The Butcher - Jesus Arms Lyrics



Benny The Butcher - Jesus Arms Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Busta Rhymes, 38 Spesh ]

Bitch, we back to bang 'em with heat 'til somebody start to partially bleed
They blood'll rain on the hoard, watch all the rest take heed
Always come to offer the cure with the best of the mead
Purer than the holy water that be blessin' your seed
Higher than a hiker that's climbin' a mountain of weed
Blessed like it's God in the flesh, you're not in my league
When I come to give 'em the food, watch how the people'll feed
Niggas say I'm the nicest, everybody agrees
Back to the partying please, I got some articles, read
Them dudes unstoppable, they do impossible deeds
Periodically, we whippin' the foreignest fees
With a trunk full of money, drop the top and them breeze
You need to acknowledge the wisdom while I'm droppin' degrees
'Fore I paint a horrible flick once my monsters is squeezed
Don't cross the line in the sand, I do suggest that you freeze
While a minister sheds a tear, all he can beg you is, "Please"
Repent

Ayy, you niggas better start rethinkin' your top five
Know what I'm sayin'?
F*ck out of here (huh)
(Ayo)

Now who the f*ck said they want it with Trust?
You niggas died June and July, they summers was rough
Thank God my numbers is up
Snitches came outside from puttin' real guys under the bus, huh
You heard that? That mean I shot somethin'
I know you niggas hate when y'all ain't got nothin'
I know you boys wish I hit the stop button
But your energy ain't strong enough to stop nothin'
I came up from carryin' weight
And bought a crib upstate by Darien Lake
Rumors that my future scary and great
Want a hundred mill' in twenty-dollar bills with Harriet face
Y'all boys is barely awake
I told the kids, "Stay away from Darien State"
Papi said, "Don't come 'round the area late"
Now the Rodriguez I meet with is the secretary of state
Huh, we all gotta eat
Nigga, I was just inside the streets with a lot of beef
I count money inside my sleep
I close my eyes and start countin' like hide-and-seek (yo, uh)

Comin' from a nigga who seen it all
I went from cleanin' stalls to puttin' D on broads like Tina Charles
I'm somebody I need to read up on (read up on me, nigga)
I caught packs in the kitchen, hands outstretched like Jesus' arms
I sold crack but now I act in movies (I'm an actor now)
They see my face on the screen, they relapse and go right back to usin'
Ain't no eatin' unless we back to movement (yeah)
Act like King, still stomp niggas flat like screens on Mac computers
I'm a boxer, a steady jab'll do it (a jab)
I'm a monster, I'll probably walk up to your car, finna Nash into it
I'm a mobster, it's Black Soprano unit (Black Soprano)
New opps, old counts, still shoot straight but the handle ruined
Uh, foreign drip and more to follow (more to follow)
Bet nobody get away 'cause we war with shit with four-inch hollows
I'm on trips out pourin' bottles (out the bottle)
I'm on shit, swipe my car, shoppin' like the Louis Store McDonald's
I spent the half before I saw a dollar (I did)
On staff but as times got bad, it became more a problem (it got real)
I'm back triple, mama's boy a grinder (grinder)
So f*ck I look like talkin' cash with a nigga who can't afford my barber?
Ah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




Bitch, we back to bang 'em with heat 'til somebody start to partially bleed
They blood'll rain on the hoard, watch all the rest take heed
Always come to offer the cure with the best of the mead
Purer than the holy water that be blessin' your seed
Higher than a hiker that's climbin' a mountain of weed
Blessed like it's God in the flesh, you're not in my league
When I come to give 'em the food, watch how the people'll feed
Niggas say I'm the nicest, everybody agrees
Back to the partying please, I got some articles, read
Them dudes unstoppable, they do impossible deeds
Periodically, we whippin' the foreignest fees
With a trunk full of money, drop the top and them breeze
You need to acknowledge the wisdom while I'm droppin' degrees
'Fore I paint a horrible flick once my monsters is squeezed
Don't cross the line in the sand, I do suggest that you freeze
While a minister sheds a tear, all he can beg you is, "Please"
Repent

Ayy, you niggas better start rethinkin' your top five
Know what I'm sayin'?
F*ck out of here (huh)
(Ayo)

Now who the f*ck said they want it with Trust?
You niggas died June and July, they summers was rough
Thank God my numbers is up
Snitches came outside from puttin' real guys under the bus, huh
You heard that? That mean I shot somethin'
I know you niggas hate when y'all ain't got nothin'
I know you boys wish I hit the stop button
But your energy ain't strong enough to stop nothin'
I came up from carryin' weight
And bought a crib upstate by Darien Lake
Rumors that my future scary and great
Want a hundred mill' in twenty-dollar bills with Harriet face
Y'all boys is barely awake
I told the kids, "Stay away from Darien State"
Papi said, "Don't come 'round the area late"
Now the Rodriguez I meet with is the secretary of state
Huh, we all gotta eat
Nigga, I was just inside the streets with a lot of beef
I count money inside my sleep
I close my eyes and start countin' like hide-and-seek (yo, uh)

Comin' from a nigga who seen it all
I went from cleanin' stalls to puttin' D on broads like Tina Charles
I'm somebody I need to read up on (read up on me, nigga)
I caught packs in the kitchen, hands outstretched like Jesus' arms
I sold crack but now I act in movies (I'm an actor now)
They see my face on the screen, they relapse and go right back to usin'
Ain't no eatin' unless we back to movement (yeah)
Act like King, still stomp niggas flat like screens on Mac computers
I'm a boxer, a steady jab'll do it (a jab)
I'm a monster, I'll probably walk up to your car, finna Nash into it
I'm a mobster, it's Black Soprano unit (Black Soprano)
New opps, old counts, still shoot straight but the handle ruined
Uh, foreign drip and more to follow (more to follow)
Bet nobody get away 'cause we war with shit with four-inch hollows
I'm on trips out pourin' bottles (out the bottle)
I'm on shit, swipe my car, shoppin' like the Louis Store McDonald's
I spent the half before I saw a dollar (I did)
On staff but as times got bad, it became more a problem (it got real)
I'm back triple, mama's boy a grinder (grinder)
So f*ck I look like talkin' cash with a nigga who can't afford my barber?
Ah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Jeremie Pennick, Justin Harrell, Roosevelt Harrell III, Trevor George Smith Jr.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Benny The Butcher - Jesus Arms Video
(Show video at the top of the page)

Tags:
No tags yet