Frenchmen - Bfb Da Packman, Benny the Butcher

Please don’t ever use that, it’s so embarrassing to me

What, the Lunch Crew?

Her

The Lunch Crew Company

[Verse 1: BFB Da Packman &

Benny the Butcher

I-I-I just bought my bitch a body (Yeah), her physique a façade

Flashback to sellin' coke to my granddaddy, I’m in need of Allah (Yeah)

Dope boys and diamonds don’t go together, that shit be screamin' the law

And Bobo told me, «If you go fed, don’t repeat what you saw»

You niggas yeast, we don’t need heat, we see that you soft (Yeah)

I hid a pack under my stomach, wasn’t no weed in my draws (Facts)

I left Flint duckin' indictment, ended up beating the odds (Hello)

And I got rich and there’s still Camry’s in my Fleeton garage (Woo)

«Free Joe Exotic» got us rich when we was hustlin' for better (Yeah)

Tellin' my dawg I love him before he meet his plug in the desert (I love you)

He made it back with more work, business be good, but I’m stressin' (Yeah)

'Cause I had thoughts, they filled the flaw and they was really gon' stretch

'em (Facts)

That’s a rhyme, 5th grade, is you a thug or not?

(Okay)

Fuck robbin' and shootin', I’d rather hug the block

Bobo showed me how to maneuver, not even my fuckin' pops

My real dad was like, «Fuck my son, I’d rather hug a rock» (Ooh)

No more dissin' that nigga, come on, let’s switch the subject

'Cause when I spit my truths someway, somehow I piss off my mother

I’m raw and uncut, I’d even fuck a distant cousin

Put my dick between two bitches lips and make them kiss each other (Mwah)

You might catch me out in Silicon Valley (Yeah)

With Sketcher flip-flops, Nike hoodie, never rockin' no Bali (Yeah)

On the phone talkin' to my guy, I’m just happy he smilin'

The fent' overdosed the fiend and feds hit him with the body (

The Butcher comin', nigga

The Lunch Crew Company

I’m givin' niggas this work, clip send you niggas to church

I bump into my old opps, they like, «Send a nigga some merch"(Fuck outta here)

They see my whips and start tryna guess what I get for a verse (Huh?)

The IRS wanna break down what each of my syllables worth

Niggas ain’t catchin' up (Nah)

I collected so much paper and delivered enough brown

Now my whip like a FedEx truck, mm

My dawg crushin' Xanax pills in a 7-Up

He fell in love with some hood rat pussy and she set him up (Felt bad for him)

They don’t value respect no more (Nah), only bands

That’s crazy, I know a mail lady with an OnlyFans

I’m on the cam rollin' dutches out turkey bags on the 'Gram

I’m goin' live leakin' shit off my album just for the fans, nah

I don’t TikTok, so don’t ask me to start a dance (You know I don’t do that shit)

Unless these big rocks doin' a butterfly on my hands

Vintage Gucci collection with butterflies on my pants

I could cook a brick of dope with rope double tied to my hands, yeah

I hit Packman and said, «You nice, yeah, I’ll give you that» (I fuck with you)

Plus you gettin' rich, can’t believe you ain’t fuck Lizzo yet (Not yet)

But y’all gon' bust U-turns when it’s your time, depend on that

These rappers shoot vids then they give they jewels and the rental back

Stackin' paper, I been on that

But they broke, mm, we figured that

I push the kinda whips that she gotta fuck if she sit in that, yeah

I was sellin' 'caine on the realest streets

Now I’m a legend, so I’ma sell my 'caine on an NFT, let’s go (Let's go,

let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go)