Benny The Butcher & Rick Hyde – “Alone” (ft. G Herbo) [Audio, Lyrics]

Benny The Butcher & Rick Hyde unveil a new collaboration, “Alone” with G Herbo, produced by DJ L Beats. Listen, stream, read the lyrics, buy the song.

Benny The Butcher & Rick Hyde Alone

Benny The Butcher & Rick Hyde Alone

Benny The Butcher is one of the hardest working emcees in the industry as he delivers tracks regularly, and as we continue to wait on that phantom collaboration with Drake that he’s holding onto so tightly, we’re welcoming “Alone” with open arms.

Benny The Butcher & Rick Hyde – Alone (ft. G Herbo) (prod. DJ L Beats)


[Intro: Benny the Butcher]
You can see my shit lightin’ up through the booth window
Oh my God, what is this? An L beat?
Ah, straight like that
Yeah, uh

[Verse 1: Benny the Butcher]
I got a lot ’cause I’m loyal, for that
And makin’ work lock from the oil
Black Soprano, signed then get a chain, Glock and a lawyer
Notorious, when you talk and runnin’ traps and enjoyin’ it
Shit, I graduated valedictorian
They want me buried and broke
But since fourteen, I been married to dope
What we deserve, heaven and hell? Apparently both
My hustle way more advanced
The double AR dance
Had a brick of Ye with a stamp
To lunch with Ye on a ranch
Got a thing for spottin’ hustlers and catchin’ ’em hungry
He did a dub but still remember the texture of money
I sold dope, been set up, got arrested with money
Paid legal fees and made bail with the rest of the money
I did a lot for my team, I ain’t takin’ no cred’
But how you say you love a nigga and they breakin’ no bread?
We ran strips, now we break record labels instead
Stay clam, now first million gon’ play with your head, [?]

[Verse 2: Rick Hyde]
Look, I was at my life with this shit
It was so much sacrificin’ and shit that I ain’t use no one invite in this shit
I spearheaded my own movement, I control my own music
Mama always taught me no expression when you goin’ through it
When she told me it was cancer, I ain’t know that she was goin’ through it
It was too late, her soul was too great
Guess God needed an angel and I needed an angle
I wish that I could talk you up, I signed then I chalk it up
The boogie had me dancin’ with the devil and I felt it
I always got this feelin’ from the money when I dealt it
If we talkin’ smoke, I want it all like I’m selfish
Don’t know if I’ma fry or I’ma grill it like it’s shellfish
Had the stakeouts with Orlando in a lobster on Atlantic
You won’t get this opportunity like runnin’ out of chances
My third or fourth tour, I’m rakin’ up more
Why you worried ’bout mine? Should be worried ’bout yours, motherfucker, uh

[Verse 3: G Herbo]
I was stuck in it for real (For real)
.40 by my rib, I’m out there bustin’ off them pills (I ain’t lyin’)
Try and tell my lil’ bro, “Chill” ’cause he gon’ kill somethin’
Just lost one of my niggas, tryna grieve but I can’t feel nothin’
We right back in that field for him (Fuck it)
Back on action like we missin’ it (Know that)
My auntie’s told my mama, try to stop me, I wasn’t listenin’ (What?)
Opp mama’s on that concrete, he keep bleedin’, now she kissin’ him (Uh)
Couldn’t catch us with them Glocks so they just locked us for solicitin’
But (Shh) ’cause they listenin’ (They listen)
Triple Cuban link, I’m glistenin’ (Uh)
Better not reach ’cause that’s too risky
Might give hell to your decision, nigga
It’s a given shit that’s seldom if I’m held in that position
Plus, I held it with precision (Sights)
Don’t get shot from our suspicion (Tonight)
I’m just tryna get some millions, that was not in my intentions
I’m still fresh up out the trenches
[?] up in my dick is— (Bah)
And this rap shit helped duck a jail sentence, DJ L a witness
Can’t be sittin’ up in no cell, silly, I got bail with me
Can’t afford to take no Ls, silly, I got Ls with me (Ls)
Ridin’ foreign, ain’t no Ls with me, they on my steel with me
Where I’m from, you gon’ get little pitty, that shit real gritty
I got niggas gon’ do work for me, from them real cities
Count up money when I’m lazy, my girl chill with me
Yeah, my bitch she know I’m crazy but she still with me (Still)
More I saw, the less it phased me
But what else could you expect if I’m an Essex baby?
Smokin’ weed ’cause I be goin’ post-traumatic crazy
No, this trap house ain’t my mama but she gotta raise me
And his granny wasn’t Christian but she tried to save him
No, he ain’t give her no diploma, she just got a daisy
Damn, that’s crazy

You was in jail when—
You was in jail when I was at home
You was in jail when I was at home
You was in jail when I was at home
You was in jail when I was at home
Show your actions, show your actions
You was in jail when I was at home
Show your actions

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