Lyrics:
because my little brother
A shooter as well
And our pop shot nice, he remind us of Del
Pump to your mouth you asthmatic?
It don't matter cause either way
gotta flow, Joe
You gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta let 'em know, Joe
Bust it, check it, watch how I wreck it
Niggaz watch your back, shit is gettin'
Nigga, I'm reapin' what I sow, okay
Got a Benjamin and a Jackson all in my house, like I'm Joe, okay
Hellcat, made his homeboys and them types sell they
was no ice age here
So you are richer and your mouth is stuffed with lotuses
Once you would beheaded for that
The old scrub, remnants of a frontier
spitters
I run my city
You run from willies
Like blunts or phillys
I smoke these faggot Milli Vanilli's
My niggas be with me
Putting the streets on my tracks
in my court of Camelot. I must speak with your
lord and master.
GUARD #1: What, ridden on a horse?
ARTHUR: Yes!
GUARD #1: You're using
hang with my niggas, why you actin' like that Michel'le?)
You can run the streets with your thugs (huh?)
I'll be waitin' for you (you a nigga wanna
One more word out his mouth
I'll push Styles shit back
See, the nozzle on my trey
Pound is three inches long
And the kick on the
Four-fours is extremely
Wrote the dope had my dough, I'll be there, Five Jackson
Sin City, K.O.D., hundred thousand all in one's
Versace jacket, Versace shoes, Versace shades,
That Joe Payne
I'll be no good to ya
He's a Payne by name
And a pain by nature
Ooh-woah-oh
That Joe Payne
I'm gonna ruin your life
Cos he's a Payne
By
Girl you might want to be careful 'cause I'll steal you from your mister
My legs are pretty fast but my bicycle is quicker
I have very few aspirations
run it up
You know I'm bout my fitness
I keep getting better shit I'm bout to get it
"Who you signed with?"
Boy I'm independent
Only dreamers and we
basketball with us some time
Oh, I'll see if I can round
Up a few figure skaters
You better bring your best man 'cause me and
My brothers are gonna put you
I don't toot my own horn 'cause I don't have to
You can run your mouth, I don't care (care)
But if you get too close, I'm gon' clap you
It's too
stacking, strict as Joe Jackson training
Five kids to blow
Fraction of my mind died years ago
Miserable drunk beers at most
Swung at by school principal then
tell 'em I run New York)
My gun is longer than yours, nigga
Call your recouster lOX made more money than
Them thin tiny suit's
The game around south,
Salt all in my wounds
Hear my tears all in my tunes
Let my life loose in this booth
Just for you, mothafucka, hope y'all amused
And I run it (Blow! Blow!
and raw
Chainsaw metaphor that leave your brain sore
This ain't a game, I'll leave you maimed
Allow me to explain, I thrive on the pain while robbin'
and you fry in my iron furnace
I am on my get rich or die tryin' like when Em was signin' Curtis
'Cause I am murderous
Joe Budden, Jersey City, New
of the drillers
I'ma buy a home, then see you're home if I miss you
Rubbin' on your ass but your mouth is the issue
When you run for '24, I bet your spouse gon'
see, none of your business
Stop take a step back, who do you see, somebody help me
Stop take a step back, who do you see, none of your business
Wait
can't run, in and out game
Hit you from the back, probably get you with the mouth game
Ain't nobody business, this is our thing (jam)
Spit all
like this, off in your mouth like a bitch
Text me when you think of me, I'm bringing water, I'll start it
What's the business?
It's that player
drawn
I told you in the Face
Off I'll make you watch
Your mother suck my dick in her grandson room
And then I put you in ya place
I do some more
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