Uncle Ric

Uncle Ric Lyrics

[Dave East:]
This real life
Change the way you look at sh*t, you know?
I promise

(La Musica de Harry Fraud)

We really took a trip to see what's goin' on
Back and forth with niggas when it was going wrong
I would never put that on a song
Drinking water, thoughts of getting rich, I think I'm Porter
Really thought I would get rich off a dime before I seen a quarter
Tell me what you know about it, the lobby crowded
We in public housing, the Gov't insisting it
Every day it's some different sh*t
The cameras ain't the only thing witnessing, niggas talking
Get a job, get a check, you want to trap, get a coffin
When that paper flowing, party for a month straight, like Rick James
The Feds is askin' bout him, I just know him by his nickname
If it wasn't for this Covid sh*t, I'd probably be at the Knick game
On the floor right next to Spike wearing a big chain
Know that mines made it, your mans a rat
I don't know how you tolerate it
I'm always gonna get back to the struggle cause I feel obligated
Niggas ain't want to make a change until they heard Obama say it
My Uncle dead, 40 years for nothing, just got exonerated

[Benny The Butcher:]
The butcher comin' nigga
Pablo and the Butcher
They tell us lies and stare in our faces
But I ain't scared, I'mma say it
Niggas took our manual tearing out pages (I know)
Put us on lists, comparing our greatness
But I'm like Mike, I feel like niggas couldn't ball in the era I played in
Still on the pavement, the hood gonna cheer for the gangsters
It's a miracle that I made it, three albums up, and six zeroes later
I'm still going up, but that's what I get for doing y'all heroes favors
Nothin', the same sh*t I gave Federal Interrogators
Y'all scared of paper, y'all run the plug off when your near the paper
Eyes closed, I can count from the sound when I hear the paper
It's the Butcher, you know my verse a classic if Harry made it
Old karma give you niggas bad luck like a mirror breakin'
Heroin deals, brick weighing, background my lyrics playin'
Just loud enough so that nobody hear what they sayin'
Ask your label, where's your advance?
Sitting here on my hands
Y'alll niggas just trash or you got terrible fans
Pablo and the Butcher