A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Joe Budden

"Em360 Rapcity Backroom Freestyle"

[Produced by !llmind]

[Intro: Big Trigger]
Yea Ya'll know what it is
Rap City presents Em360
Slaughterhouse, Eminem, Big Tigg, Just Blaze!
On the 1s and 2s, oh-oh

[Intro: Eminem]
Yo Tigg, get in the not booth
And spit the truth, to the young youth

[Verse 1: Big Trigger]
Aight, ay, Amex don't leave home without your cards
But this Hip Hop, so don't leave home without your bars
And for some of these rap stars, that's just too bad
Cause you can't bring out them bars, that you ain't never had
It's Eminem and Slaughterhouse, yeah you know we the truth
And ohh the game is out of order, since we closed the booth
Yes indeed original, beats the replacement cause
The back room will never be what the basement was

[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
I'm the realest mo'f*cker that I know
Wasn't always the case guess the figure had to grow
I do it for the love I don't do it for the dough
But I know these sucker figures will so they keep me on my toes
What's sad is I couldn't tell you what I'm hated for
And them painkillers didn't murder the pain they gave me more
These fans on my head now they say they want the old Joe
I grew up mature y'all can't see that this the old Joe
Want to see me lose every battle of depression
No matter what it do to me, no matter my regression
They want to see me fall, want to ruin my regiment from the start
Want to cut the beat off soon as I let em in my heart
I'd be the first to admit it, lost focus for a while
Sendin' unsolicited di*k pics to dimwitted thick chicks
Was so high I lost track of my ways
Then I fell in love with a baby and got mad at her age
The way she act and behave, was it an act or a phase
How you trife when I gave you life
You was lacking in wage
You don't want say hi or speak to me
Bet you makin 200 dollars by weekly
Try to help the world out, bring some reparation
And forget being humble in a state of desperation
Ain't gotta ask what to help with no hesitation
And for me to deal with it I might need some meditation
I love you but its best we stay apart, segregation
And to cope with the feeling I might need some medication
Trust me I don't never want to see that side of Joe
It would kill us all slow, one reason I'm the realest mother-mother I know

[Verse 3: Royce da 5'9]
Its Nickle, riding round in that Maserati four seat
Symbol on the grill looking like Tony Stark's goatee
Best rapper alive and you know me
The most distinguished shooter that's coming up out of the D since Joe D
I take mines at lead point
At the risk of having to shave my garlic clove in a razor inside a fed joint
Hip hop is alive, but the rhymes died
Only fear I have is "world star" being yelled from my blind side
Don't get me wrong it ain't like I ain't never lost a fight
But these days I'm more like a lyrical artiste
I'm outlining everybody in chalk white
The off-beat deceased version of Dr. Narcisse
This ain't blueprint, your idolizing
You tryna jump fast that's foolish of you in my drunk past and handing me my pilot's license
That's plain stupid, your boy's a star
Sitting in that drop top fish bowl and the doors ajar
It's ironic I remember when I couldn't afford a car
And now it's back and forth
The black one or white one I call 'em Macklemore
And Lord Jamar, first we defyin' the odds
We not a group, we more like a circular firing squad
This not a booth, this is our house and we won't stop
We killed the cypher two times already
What you gon' give us an award
But we won't stop for shutting down the internet
Now tell ya momma hi, and tell Rihanna we ain't finished yet

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
When we step in that booth, that's when the flame enters
Best spit, make any set trip, yeah its the gang members
Waving that shady flag, navy jag
Matching the yank' fit, with the polo brief showing, due to the lazy sag
I'm in a crazy kind of place
I got this thing right on my waist that'll leave tears on your baby mommas face
So chill, I'm in a crazy kind of place, I got this thing below my waist
That'll leave kids on your baby mommas face, for real
The flow gets cracked, as it came in capsules
Your cap just started snapping
My starter caps was snapping
When cross color was cracking
And my cane was half full
With the half moon park, hope you rap dudes smart
Don't p*ss me off like the bathroom mop
You don't want it with me
If I'm throwing hooks at you, that don't mean the chorus for free
So save your jabs its way better
If I start throwing jabs I'm talking Zabs first three round against Mayweather
Yeah I'm a crook from the brook, that mastered how (?) shook turned notebook
Broke cook, I'm so dope look
Bring the beat back with no hook just bars
Just a thing of ours that make their pants drop, make em open up their bras
Move g-strings like guitars, that's nothing, that's something light
Like Riesling at the bar
Y-A-O-W-A, if y'all ain't saying Yaowa by now you got nothing to say
This like NWO vs NWA, y'all like the rockers versus the ROC
Full of nothing but Jays
Check the rocks its nothing fugaz'
But don't get stupid my Cooper clique will throw shots for a couple of days
Make it horny when we out, Amityville horror, y'all don't want it with the house

[Verse 5: Crooked I]
Slaughter season, y'all the reason
Real dudes I'm bringing some more in
Like a Polynesian
Sick with the llama squeezing
Bullets flew and the chopper sneezing
Got your body and legs torn, but before you was airborne
You was bob and weaving still getting hit till your nos' is weezing
They set you deep in your coffin sleeping
I'm gone off the deep end, I'm a wolf, this industry my sheep skin
I'm out here hunting with my ink pen
I'm living like a kingpin
Doing it for my g's in the pen
Dreaming about two-piecing a police chief's chin
You rappers something candy coated, I don't like suckers
I'm Iron Mike, I don't like Busters
You looking for em' fly dudes like Orville and Wilbur
You got the Wright brothers
No bright jeans, no bright colors
I'm the second coming, the one that Pac predicted
Islamic, Gnostic and Christian, the flow so godly you got to listen
I backed you in a dodge a minute
Like MC Eiht in a L.A. hat, these rappers straight tryna dodge a menace
I'm looking at your videos, look like your watching tennis
Brothers dressed like Maria Sharapova wearing yoga pants
Meanwhile Big Poppa was rocking linens
I guess that era's over man, hold on
I'm splitting atoms when the scientific spitting is getting at em'
I give em' different patterns, they didn't fathom, they stealing my styles
Before me you didn't have em'
You rappers made in my image like when God was inventing Adam
Stab em in the abdomen when its crunch time
I truly flip like Mayweather p*ssed of at a movie script
Too many punchlines
Family I'm amongst mine
I keep the peace like a monks mind
.357 fade your favorite barber
Leave you in an old bush like an unshaven Barbara
Don't stop what we doing
When you see L.A. your team will be ruined
This game need a new villain, I'm the kind to murder you on vine, ooh kill em'

[Introduction: Big Trigger]
Ladies and gentlemen
Now introducing the man, the myth, the legend
Mister Marshall Mathers AKA (chicka-chicka) Slim Shady

[Verse 6: Eminem]
Ayo can we cut this beat off
I might need to do this acapella, yo
Role model?
I'll roll a model down a hill over broke bottles of coke products
If she don't swallow, and tie her to the bumper, hit the throttle
While I'm tryna hit the pot holes, I'll freaking take Madonna to McDonalds
Any ho'll end up horizontal gettin' fondle
I don't cuddle, I don't coddle
Only motto that I follows is everything I drive, whether it's a Navajo or a Tahoe
It's got a ho in it
Nah ho, I don't got no freaking bronco
You looking for a buck, get a horse, f*ck Tonto
I got a rusty Hondo with some bondo
And a box of condoms you little blond ho
f*ck me? f*ck you too, like I'm at Bonnaroo booing Bono
And I ain't from this planet so nanu, nana, nanu
I'm intolerable, too volatile, screw it
I don't got too make the honor roll to be on a roll
I don't know much, what I do know I do it pronto though
So knock it off, all these knock-off-me's,
The last thing the world needs is another me
But if you think this is part 2 to Recovery
Or to "Love the Way You Lie" part twelve
Or something heart felt, you 'bout to make a discovery
Like you found Christopher Columbus' compass
Ain't dumbing sh*t down for you dumb motherf*ckers, so suck it
I took your best punchline like a punch in the stomach
That punctured a lung punk and I'm still functioning from it
Chump it was nothing
Now watch while I f*ckin' one up it and toot my own horn
Once I think of something to trump it
And I don't need a f*cking instrument to sound off
Like the trunk of an elephant; the triumphant
Return of the ether spitting retard, reborn
But chances of you having another re-birth, slim to none
Like a skinny Mother Teresa, give a f*ck if it's Easter, so kiss my keister
'Cause that's the only thing I'll turn the other cheek for

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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