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


[Intro: Royce Da 5'9"]
You got something on your mind n*gga?
Say dat then

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Well let me say it without worrying about if my label OK it
When Weapon Waist wildin out, man give him room
Used to have skeletons in my closet, but now they sit in my living room
Octomom, I picture putting more n*ggas in a hole than that b*tches womb
The street sweeper's the wicked witches broom
A silver spoon, I never had it
I grew up mad at Anne Frank, cause the b*tch lived in a better attic
(Say dat then)
I seen my share of static, they say that it made me charismatic
Born leader who was born Libra in a foreign two seater
With a porn diva, blowin reefer and pouring liters of vodka
Cause the feds freezing a n*gga bread
I'm drinking thinking they gon seize me even when I'm dead
Killers in my backyard, in the dark with choppers
While I'm sleeping in my bed, dreaming about Slaughterhouse
Dropping an album that's a chart topper
While I got these demons schemin' on my head
Even though I'm the realest
See, there wasn't enough violence in Menace II Society
To show you how Cali killers be chilling in society
And the police, they hate me
Long Beach PD probably want to kill Eminem for signing me
Cause I was supposed to be a statistic
A ghost to me is realistic, my dead homie said, "Say dat then"

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Guess this where I'm supposed to vent, huh?
Under scrutiny, all my oppurtunity went, huh?
Reality is I had more personality bent, huh?
Nonsense, honestly my conscience is dealing with a constant
Conflict with the bullsh*t I've been doing
That I feel so bad about the second after it's accomplished
A compass, I need one of those cause I'm wandering in darkness
But I see straight, and it feels great being clean around this
Being clean around this (Say dat then)
Being clean around this garbage, two steppin through this garden
Full of frozen cold snakes when you a lion, warm hearted
Bank account comma, but still get ya undergarments from Target
With a penthouse apartment, kinda n*gga still ready to p*ss in the elevator
And shake the doorman's hand before you go jogging
(Yaowa) I'm just a hood n*gga, f*ck it
But I'm a good n*gga f*cking after that cat on my tongue
But never the cat got my tongue my n*gga
(Say dat then) So I could knock your dome off your neck
Get your whole right eye socket broke with a left
You could go apesh*t, fake prick
And take flicks with eight cliques, you still never posing a threat
If you gon' say something, say it then

[Interlude: 2Pac Interview Sample]
Hahaha my biiiig mouth
I got a big mouth, can't help it
Talk from my heart, real
You know what I'm saying?
Whatever comes, comes

[Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9"]
You got something on your mind n*gga?
I made a living off of rhyming 'bout just how I feel at the moment
Right at this particular moment
I'm in that zone where I'm wondering
How far I really could get with just my diploma
Reflecting on how rap is a blessing
Feeling that same feeling before I f*cked my first bad b*tch
That I got right after undressing, feeling like "Am I about to get this?"
In yo head you hear it, that voice of confidence
That comes down on you from the heavens like
"Yeah, you 'bout to get it"
Just hope that you don't stick your di*k in the dud
Cause that b*tch could end up your wife, or your mistress
Or a chick the same type as your mistress, or a chick that's just gon' draw your name with a stick in the mud
Rather intended or unintended
It all comes with the territory, no pun intended
I fell out with all of my friends like "Is it me or is it them?"
Angry like, "sh*t, everybody can't be wrong
But a lot of these n*ggas just can't be right"
Therefore, I'll say it's their fault (Say dat then)
I f*cking plan to, too many hoes out here n*ggas done ran through
I'd rather roll through the valley and lay low
I done fell out of love and back in love again then out of love
And back with my spouse more than Halle and J. Lo
If she left me, my inner self would shatter
I could leave her, cause I'm a selfish addict
The problem is, I just don't want nobody else to have her
If we split, I consider my health a hazard
Or else living in wealth and lavish
And as far as these n*ggas who want to kill me
You never get a chance, you a criminal
Chill with your subliminal Twitter rants
You bigger than that, you just ain't bigger than me
You are literally killing me figuratively
I'm busy thinking about who hot and how they bit off me
If any one of you n*ggas jump on me
Nobody gon' have to tell you that you should probably get off me
And that's off rip, bruh, your contract killers can sign off richer
That little beef y'all talking is small things to a giant
Like Goliath been drinking that Anaconda Malt Liquor
Slaughterhouse, we the nicest four fellas (House Gang!)
And if that day should come that we should ever part ways
It'll just be an excuse for us to reunite at Coachella

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
I heard them words and they stung my ears rung
Was told that cancer finally made it to his lungs
Some of y'all are blessed enough that y'all have no idea
The f*ck I'm talking 'bout, 'cause y'all got no experience
So in case you hear this verse and thinkin' there's the slightest chance that he'll survive
His cancer's on level four, and there's not a five
Saw my mother lose her mother, now my dad is losing his
All from miles apart, wildest part is that's not the wildest part
What's outlandish is I too would wanna vanish
Alcoholic uncle robbin' him blind and taking advantage
My aunt's supposed to be holding him down, but she's sure to gain (why?)
Behind his back she took out another insurance claim
(Say dat then) Well, indeed I will
They making all these alterations to his will
He can't even play his poker games in peace, y'all gotta chill
Like I can't decide if he's dying or y'all rather have him killed
I know a n*gga last breath shouldn't be this way
And if they was I would panic too, tell me what's a man to do
Playing devil's advocate, none of it's understandable
I walk in the house and feel that energy as if it's tangible
While e'ry rapper got a cuban on
Looking like Marks I'm just busy trying to get my Mark Cuban on
My Lyor Rick Rubin on, my Nas, Pac, Big, Jay, Em, and fusion on
Could out rap any movement goin'
Gun on the couch sh*t, wrong one to be running your mouth wit'
Bars, no VH1, it's Mouse sh*t
If a n*gga don't spit crack, go back and stock up
No harm, sometimes you got to stir it till it rock up
Been broke and been rich, been high, sober
f*cked almost e'ry model twice over like I was living my life over
These n*ggas ain't gotta like me, but after a decade in
They all respect me, sh*t, they don't even directly indirect me
It's cool though, back to business, stacking these riches
Means caskets in ditches with my Trues on living sacrilegious
It's Joe looking like money, all the pretty hoes can't help but look
Life hand me lemons, better be what Jordan Belfort took
Slaughter la familia, Glocks out over here
The schoolboy's with Kendrick, we dropouts over here
Uh, no offense 'cause them my n*ggas
And that list is short, you get the gist, I'm sure

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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