Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blood on the Wall, artist - Joe Budden.
Date of issue: 23.02.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Blood on the Wall |
How many niggaz fell victim to the streets |
Rest in peace young nigga, it’s a heaven for a G |
I’d be a liar if I told you that I never thought of death |
My nigga, we the last ones left (l-look) l-look (l-look) |
I said — how many niggaz fell victim to the streets |
Rest in peace young nigga, it’s a heaven for |
I’d be a liar if I told you that I never thought of death (l-look look) |
My nigga, we the last ones left; |
but life goes on And I ain’t gon’stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall! |
L-look, look, look, look |
Maybe it started with the rims on the whip |
Uh, I lost the Hummer, push the Benz through the strip |
But I’ll swim with the fish before I lend niggaz shit |
Cause personally, they ain’t worth the phlegm that I spit |
That’s why, sometimes I think the end’s comin quick |
My old ass father shot twins out his dick |
So, if they so happen to come out without a older brother |
Won’t be alone cause comin up at least they’ll have each other |
At least they’ll one another cause life’s a muh’fucker |
But while I’m here my only job is not to see 'em suffer |
Through dope boys, shootouts, stick-ups and undercovers |
The world is full of suckers but don’t worry, I’m your buffer |
Buffer, like I shoulda been for BJ |
Well he never listened to nothin we say |
(It was) half past 12, midnight on a weekday |
Not even 20 hours past his release date, we stay |
This nigga hit him up four times, one kick the heart |
And that kicked my heart |
Call his pops, niggaz pick the phone up So he can come find his son lyin in his own (blood) blood |
On the block that we ran through |
House we grew up in, corner we would post on Shot dead in front of niggaz we would be with |
But how the fuck nobody see shit? |
(nigga) |
It’s on there to be a brother to his brother lucky |
Cause in the belly of the beast I know this shit get ugly |
Get on my knees and have a convo with the Lord above me Maybe sometimes I hear him wrong, I think he sayin «Fuck me» |
Only he could judge me, care less what they thinkin of me Cause honestly I’d be aight if no one ever love me (love me) |
I write «I only fear Joe"in blood |
Smeared slow on my brain by my earlobe (earlobe) |
And I ain’t gon’stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall! |
Y-yo, yo, yo All I tried do is raise the bar |
See my, weeks is scabbed up, days are scarred |
Still I love to see a muh’fucker hate from far |
More they talk 'bout me the more I pray for y’all |
I mean, I don’t get how Prodigy gon’acknowledge me When the nigga 'bout as big as an apostrophe (ohh!) |
For him to possibly think that he is hot as me is far from a prophecy, it’s more like a mockery |
Used to be hip-hop to me, 'fore you bombarded me with everything ass like side of me has gotta be drugs |
Four-fifths and snubs, what’s that about? |
Nigga you can’t lift the guns that you rappin 'bout |
But real talk, I can’t front on your old shit |
Now you just old as shit! |
Not old and sick |
'Stead of holdin my dick, here’s a better way (dawg) |
Never mind me, worry about your Medicaid |
… Shit’s so unfair |
Nigga beats carried your ass most of your career |
Wanna blog, here’s a reason — I FUCKS «Murda Music» |
Anybody ever dissed this nigga is still breathin |
Jay-Z, Saigon, Nas already peeled him |
2Pac, he ain’t alive but you ain’t kill him |
50 signs the bum only cause where he was from |
Put his stamp on a nigga and still nobody feels him |
Not a murderer, a gangsta, robber |
Washed up 90's nigga, now a gangsta blogger |
Me that, underground flow strike like the pound blow |
Your sound’s old, not even worth a download |
I would have niggaz hunt you like a hound’s nose |
Problem is you pussy, the whole town knows |
So why let the body count grow |
for some fiend-out nigga now starrin in a clown show (clown show) |
And I ain’t gon’stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall! |