Text: Joe Budden. Mood Muzik 4.5. Spring Training.
We gonna need more than a block, we monopolizing
Nah, I'm not rapping, I'm prophesizing
Quite simply, seat back, diamond white Bentley
Approach it I might empty, since I never gave a FUCK
Ain't nothing you can say that might offend me
Not when only reason shorty's in the ride is to? me
When you do a little better they begin to hate ya
So I keep animals with me, it's just in my nature
If you don't wanna hear the real then I ain't finna make ya
You just keep hearing what's coming from them incinerators
But when they show the hatred is when you know you made it
Me, I been to hell and back the shit is over rated
But every day could be your last, so if trouble met me
He'll be with a few of viagras and a couple beckys
You want a crash course? Know the damages
I promise y'all that if I got high I'd smoke Canibus
From best to worst, from legend to barely here
Since they repo'd your prime this shit ain't really fair
Losing his mind, somebody better set him straight
Lost Buckingham Palace, now it's Section 8
In '012 why rep that hard?
And who the fuck dug him up from Wyclef's backyard?
But off him, not a part of you is trife
And you can't afford the drama when your Arsenal's a knife
No heart in you to survive, nigga living like an orphan
Beefing bout New Jersey but you living in New Orleans
I ain't even got to stab you, far from a threat
I don't get why a Hitman felt he needed to Holla at you
Come to rapper shit, you real bad at matching wits
I'm better with a badder bitch, how I'm not the catalyst?
When the shots finish flying I bury the biscuit
I fall off the same day Tyler Perry'll miss it
But what stifles me is how you sit back and idly
Call this a rivalry when your idle's me
How you throw a shot at everything you try to be?
Sad part is nothing in your life coincides with me
Now tell me that's your strategy son
The clip's extended, they looking like Natalie Nunn
Sayin' we can blow the shotties how is he supposed to stop me?
As a hobby I get high inhaling decomposing bodies
And if you decide to cross Joe, I'll be waiting with a crossbow
And feed his torso to my baby cane corso
Shit has gone far enough, it's time to finish this
Should stop starting chess matches 'gainst the limitless
Friends with my foes so my peers are annoyed
Everyday they just watch me cry tears of joy
I don't care for the ploy, came up from being hella broke
You think the fans are buying music, I'm selling hope
Here's some insight homie, fuck making a friend
My funeral gonna be by invite-only
By chance I'm going to hell maybe for selling dope
I want my own table sectioned off with a velvet rope
Might want to see Heaven, might need a telescope
A girl to restock anytime the wine cellar's low
Bottle service, maybe a couple whores
High ceilings, flat screens and double doors
I'm not a cult member, I'm not a worshipper
Just a Jers nigga tryin'a have a couple words with her
Strollin' through the hood till she seem outta place
Used to niggas blowing her up that'll cling to her waist
Me, I've never been a nigga that a fiend had to chase
Ask for gucci all you gonna get is cream to the face
So I put my G stacks up against your little weed stash
A one time only event, won't get a recap
Aim it at his knee caps, have niggas in your crib
When you get home, your lil' girl in the back they think it's TCAP
So y'all can put all the blaming on me
But keep in mind this is training for me
Joe Budden
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