The Fighting Irish Lyrics – Benny the Butcher | Ashes In The Safe

Read the full The Fighting Irish lyrics by Benny the Butcher, Fuego Base and Black Soprano Family from the album Ashes In The Safe along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Benny The Butcher’s music, you can also explore Warehouse 4 and Big Shirley, two other songs by Benny The Butcher.

[Intro: Fuego Base]
(These are the real Sopranos)
Uh, you n***** stupid
Y’all think we turned up already
Y’all ain’t seen nothing yet
Uh

[Verse 1: Fuego Base]
You just couldn’t leave the chick and gave tips to the fuzz (Uh)
Heard the Feds brought her ass got she thicker than blood (Damn)
On wax never mention a grudge
But any n**** dissing me might dodge instead of getting a buzz (On my m*mmy)
More grams than birthdays jumped right in to hustling (Uh)
I was younger than them hoes they claim Tyga was fu*king (That’s young)
If you love me drive me down Zipps (Uh-huh)
My b!tch don’t gotta wait for her birthday for out of town trips (Hahaha)
I hear that hot talk, let’s simmer it down
Thе fact is I used to owe n***** I’m richer than now
Lеt them tell it they handed me something
But I’m the biggest s*it that happened in my hood since Camby was dunking (Facts)
They speculate what I earn in this s*it
Just be happy I quit the trap ’cause if your mom come, I’m serving the b!tch (Hahaha)
I’m really that, I’m deserving of this (Real n****)
I’m so famous that the cop might let me go if I’m swerve in the b!tch

[Chorus: Benny the Butcher]
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me (I be lucky, yo)
Lucky me, lucky me

[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]
Heard n**** singing like The Commodores

Last night we had bottle wars
Yacht Master, one or two, you got one, you got ’em all
Bone collector, alpha dog
Cut from a different kind of cloth
N***** like us dinosaurs, but this watch ain’t no fossil, dog (Hahaha)
One shot, clean kill, wipe ’em down with alcohol
Tools laying around my crib, got wrenches like we salvage cars (Let’s go)
Talked dope trafficking for 80’s babies but now it’s frowned upon
If you go in my house the cars still smell like an ounce of raw
Put money in my homie’s books, fed a thousand and forty crooks
One hand on the chrome he put the other hand on the holy book
It numb your mouth like aura gel, one taste get your homie hooked
Don’t play, get your homie cooked
Y’all pray to a lonely wolf (Ah, Butcher coming)
I pray to the only God I know so you know what’s up (You know what’s up, n****)
Mr. Pyrex Man, you add water, that’s how you blow it up
What I seen in my environment, watched a fiend be a scientist
I stepped on so many blocks I need a podiatrist
Lucky me, n**]

[Chorus: Benny the Butcher]
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me (They say I’m lucky)
Lucky me, lucky me (I really work hard for this s*it, though)
Lucky me, lucky me
Lucky me, lucky me (Fu*k it, I’ll take that)
Lucky me, lucky me (I’ll be lucky for y’all n*****)
Lucky me, lucky me (I’ll be lucky this one time for y’all n*****)
Lucky me, lucky me (Ah)

[Outro]
(These are the real Sopranos)