Lyrics:
no 9 pistols
He actin' hard 'cause he got that gun
He like Brian Nichols
Might hit LA broke as fuck
Leave with nine giffy's
My nigga Tron iced up,
off the boxes at your front door
Yeah I?m your Average Joe
Never made a ton of money
Just enough to get us by
But the things that make me rich
Is this
body
Now I’m fresh and my
Physical frame is celebrated
Cause I made it one quarter through life
Some Godly-like thing created
Got rhymes 365 days annual
And honestly on to better things, that's her friend
These niggas groupies, they peons, man
King of my city like Leon, man
'Head of these niggas by eons, man
sharp like an anaconda's bite
You get stomped in a fight
I love mentioning weapons
Enter the ring, steppin' on your skull
We do demented things when
air back, I'm rap's heimlich
Got 'em all sick is that vomit?
You nasty
Man I'll smack your skin if you feel you past it
[Joe Budden]
It's like we
don't know about these killers and thieves
Seven grams of weed, you smoke that, but I'm high off life
I could fall out the sky like twice
And land in
neck of the woods
My neck of the woods (my neck of the woods)
In my neck of the woods
There's stop signs that I ran through like Richard Petty
check on every hoe you checked
That makes sense, bad bitches, that's what Joe do best
And I's the man 'round these parts when they ain't know you yet
the night has gone by (by)
But still I find the time to put that bump off in your eye
Total chaos, for these playas, thought we was absent
We takin'
at the crossroads was the end of the line
For Big Joe and Phantom 309
But every now and then some higher'll come by
And like you Big Joe'll give 'em a ride
Here have
trying to send me back I ain't going for it
Street nigga bankroll courthouse, shoot it out Brian Nichols
Before I do another day in prison I Rather
it like FIFA
Every day Christmas 'cause I'm smokin' that wreath-a
Keep a lot of bitches like Queen Latifah
I am Southern-land, not Kiefer
Y-M-E for
sellin' ya pride
You motherfuckers need to know that
[Chorus]
Hey Joe
We gon' ball like dogs but keep it gangsta nigga
I'm a guerilla
(YO), uh, (oh God), haha
Haha (feedin you, feedin you)
Yo (feedin you, feedin you)
(Fat Joe)
Yo, uh, yo, call me the JV artist
That means I own two
till the haters go blind One thing is for sure, that this year is all mine
I been robbed with the Glock, I been taken by the cops You can slob by my
commtrans
We could only bring
A couple things
Passports IDs
You know what I mean
Dancing my way
Through TSA
What ya gonna say
It's a brand new day
Bunch
You couldn't be a better playa than me
Even if you fucked every day of the week
I know you think you got
It like that but peep
I be fuckin' hoes
solid hard git that,
Those like your blow on a boulevard knit sacks,
Just as big around as a Tylenol, hit that,
Nigga with the Yay tell him now bring
Joe C.: Kyle's mama is a big fat bitch
She's tha biggest bitch I know
And she stinks like shit
Remember back in tha day when she was skinny
Now she
seriously poked in
Your crack by ministers
Eww, these days rappers on my TV
Are braggers about their swagger rocking
Karats off of Ebay
But I ain't tripping,
are
How many of the astronauts can you name huh how many
My heroes were people like Joe DiMaggio who proved that nice guys can finish first
And Stan
Listening to Joe
Man that's bad for your health
Tryna be these fucking rappers
Man that's bad for your wealth
Stalk Amanda B
With the cam on stealth
Niggas that caught Sean Bell
Slippin' with the nina
A day before the wedding
Safety off the weapon
Though all these things
Play in my head
I keep
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