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

"Sound Off"

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"]
You herbs, we merged, we're an alliance
We fight fire with flame-throwers, why would you try us?
We a outfit, equivalent to Voltrons
That boy Crooked I's equivalent to four arms
Joell Ortiz is the body
The cannibal-slash-killer: kill you, then eat your body
Joe Budden is the pair of legs
He run sh*t, alongside I, the apparent head
I am the general, bow now
f*ck saluting, I don't really think y'all n*ggas get it
Run up on you with an army, it is
On till it's done, finished
You got a problem with any one of my Slaughters
Then y'all n*ggas can come with us
Me and Joey, we a perfect fit
He likes startin' sh*t, I like endin' sh*t
I don't squash the beef, I don't bend a bit
It ain't intricate
I'm gon' shoot yo' stupid ass
You choose to laugh
You gon' die smilin, try wildin'
I get hostile then I'm violent
I don't make threats n*gga, I promise
My style is Stalin mixed with sick lyrics
If you hear it, it'll lift your spirit
Turn your appearance to a disappearance
When I d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-ding

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but my clique
Nothing but hot sh*t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I put my money on my clique
Hot sh*t coming outta the barrel of my fifth
{​​​*click-clack, bang*}​​​

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
I got a raw flow, and I stay hungry more so
Guess that's why I'm the torso
I pour sweat when I perform shows
What I record goes down as the best
But the vets won't let that torch go
Y'all can keep it, they got flashlights now
And flame-throwers, and I got one on my back right now
Remain focused, that's what I tell myself now and then
Don't wanna go back to that block like where Varejao defends
Uh-oh, my stomach growls again
I ain't none of you cowards' friends
Every human out of my sight, before I count to ten (Woo!)
One two three four five six seven eight
I'm hungry like I never ate
Set a table up with knives, forks and spoons
I'm 'bout to get a plate
All these weak dummies lookin' yummy like a pepper steak
Me and these streets'll never separate, we ain't married
Yeah but every time I touch a pen I sorta set a date
I'll devastate your career, look I'mma demonstrate
Let me get a good breath I take before I regulate
Okay, bye-bye you guys, don't try to rhyme
'Cause line for line, what I design, is mine and mines
Point is I'm divine and I'm right behind the big guy that shines
All the light in mine
So my eyes can find a nice dime to grind
C'mere girl, toma, toma, take that, take that

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but my clique
Nothing but hot sh*t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I put my money on my clique
Hot sh*t coming outta the barrel of my fifth
{​​​*click-clack, bang*}​​​

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
You rappers chasing popularity by any means
Doing silly things
Buying too many size 20 skinny jeans
The West treat me like I'm really king
I'm Pacquiao in the Philippines, illest thing them n*ggas seen
You rappers dressing like you finna sing "Billie Jean"
I gotta intervene; f*ck you, I'mma intervene
You loud talking wouldn't kill a thing
Matter of fact, where's your head, n*gga? I got the guillotine
f*ck your Hollywood limousine and rented bling
I give you three red dots and I call it a triple beam
I'll put your pad on your property, fag
Properly rob you and hop in the Jag
If you stopping the profit, the Glock'll be popping
Your body'll rock a colostomy bag
Shot in the abs, moms'll be sad
Pops'll be mad, doctor be glad
Possibly stopping the plasma dropping
Clock running out and the outcome bad
Any one of you n*ggas that's f*cked with my team
Pretty-ass thing with the infrared beam
Sleep on that and get killed while you dream
f*ck a rap group, Slaughterhouse a machine
Slaughterhouse a regime
I'm gooned up if you know what I mean
Everybody wanna be down with the king
N-N-N-N-No-Fly Zone

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but my clique
Nothing but hot sh*t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I put my money on my clique
Hot sh*t coming outta the barrel of my fifth
{​​​*click-clack, bang*}​​​

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
My one goal's to astonish
Tell the President, V.P., (You could) notify the Congress
They say I'm arrogant, pompous but I'm honest
I tell 'em keep an accomplice away from the accomplished
They still making threats on your highness
But I tell 'em where I be, they just ignore the compass
I think all your mans Play-Doh
I don't buy that movie, "Fandango"
Fans they know that, what!
You a soldier to a general, baby steel
Got it in the bag, airtight, Navy SEAL
Tell lil' dudes I ain't mad at y'all
College kids like Asher Roth
Y'all just trying to put food on the table
Well, I'ma just come and try snatch it off
If it ain't for me
Most young dudes'd be angrily (Whoa, whoa)
But anxiously awaiting bankruptcy
Wonder what makes lil' muh'f*ckers think they're the same as me
I'm synchronized, you and your mans'll die
Learn certain sh*t you ain't meant to try
Got the ground covered with some n*ggas in disguise
Best bet's to attempt to fly
sh*t's a gang, you down, you in for life
f*ck y'all, I ain't gotta generalize
Y'all ain't able to write what the pen describes
So when he asked what I meant and why, I tell him

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but my clique
Nothing but hot sh*t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I f*ck with nothing but gangstas
Nothing but hustler n*ggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!)
I put my money on my clique
Hot sh*t coming outta the barrel of my fifth
{​​​*click-clack, bang*}​​​

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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