Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Freestyle, artist - Joe Budden. Album song Mood Muzik Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.09.2015
Record label: Amalgam, Stage One
Song language: English
Freestyle |
Soul of a 70's number man, I can throw a curve underhand |
This for the streets, not Summer Jam |
This ain’t for the fans that wanna hear pop and snap |
Drunk off Ciroc and the Yak, all y’all can watch from the back |
This ain’t for self proclaimed legends that nobody wanna hear from |
Scared? |
Get a gun; |
come to peers, I got none |
This ain’t for bandwagon fans sit y’all asses in the same spot |
Y’all the same niggas made Trinidad Jame$ hot |
This ain’t to Kendrick Lamar, the nigga Kendrick got bars |
I heard his shit and wasn’t offended at all |
And as it played I heard him say I wasn’t mentioned with y’all |
Joell started it, only right I finish the job |
So all that shit is revocable, from an overview |
Only thing noticeable is how he barely gave me any quotables |
I state facts, not to say it’s wack but check the playback |
Outrhyming A$AP ain’t showing me where your weight at |
I’m on my shit today, you the king of New York |
You might as well had spit on Biggie’s grave, couldn’t let that slip away |
I’m in the court of public opinion, ready to click and spray |
Light Jay Elec ass up, that’s my Exhibit A |
Bitch kill my vibe is what you wanna get into |
Drown em all in a swimming pool, full of phlegm and drool |
You renting jewels what’s with all the fascination? |
So when I ask you 'bout it that’s my cross examination |
This a scrimmage to me, all these blemished MC’s |
Infamously it’s about image I see |
But if it’s bars, not about bread, to hell with the wealth |
Put you inside of the bullet, just to see a shell of yourself |
I mean uh, since rap has been accessible, they action been regrettable |
This is what the net’ll do |
Chick sending message to tricks ain’t get to see 'em |
They ain’t even artists and they get paid per diem |
We talking bars, then this whole conversation changed |
Fuck all the subliminals now nigga saying names |
Some of these OG’s I laugh at, y’all don’t know me to half ass |
To me it’s just one Joey that’s bad ass |
King of New York, my nigga stop it 5 |
Keep it funky Drake washed you twice |
Tell me Tyler that fire with saliva? |
I reply don’t bring a lie around |
Run up on Meek with the silencer, nigga quiet down |
Then ride off with his intro playing |
Cause I get hype to that shit dog I ride to that shit |
With nightmares, I wanna be at the root of em with the mag off |
Know he love Philly so I’m leavin' him with Black Thoughts |
You talking bars niggas better get help |
They put they guts all on the track, still they never get felt |
Lot of lower tier rappers tryna rep for they belt |
Nigga there’s levels to this shit, dog you said it yourself |
But check it, when it comes to control, I might have lost a bit |
Law abiding citizen style I’m coming for all of it |
Running in your studio engineer that recorded it |
Yes men that supported it, any blog that reported it |
Any artist he tour with, snuff whoever bought the shit |
Whoever thought of it, his mentor whoever taught him it |
Interrupt with a sneeze, hiccup, fart, even cough or lick |
If I got it twisted you coming to contort the shit |
But the irony, y’all all inspire me |
Y’all in a spot a lot of us aspire to be |
We just striving my G, tip my hat so y’all know it’s real |
Fuck whoever mad, you said how we all suppose to feel |
I know the game, some’ll try to get amped |
You push the envelope, some of us provided the stamp |
Predecessors wrote the letter, others sealed it shut |
Some was nice without the percs, before Amil got touched |
It’s Hip Hop, should blame on the mic these niggas hands on |
Shades that they wear in the club, couches they stand on |
You mixed credibility with dead ability |
Raise the bar like you on par with this level of agility |
Old UNLV Runnin' Rebel artillery, with Augmon at the 2 |
What sparring y’all wanna do? |
Get to arguing with a Spartan, play it cool |
I heard them alien voices, I’ll knock the martian up outta dude |
Separate the beast from the timid, it’s hip hop |
Fuck if your car is lease or rented, at least you in it |
Foaming at the lips, looking like the yeast in women |
Don’t be facetious most of y’all been a feast from the beginning |
This is for B.I.G., Suicidal Thoughts, Coogi printed |
This for Nas, army jacket with the uzi in it |
Not no Shiny Suit shit, this that 92 Knicks |
This for Hov’s missing 92 bricks |
For State Prop and Beans, to when the L.O.X. |
first burst on the scene |
For Queens, Pac and even E.D.I. |
Mean |
This for the Mobb and the purple tape, word to Inspectah Deck |
This ain’t for the labels nah, Wu said protect ya' neck |
This ain’t a diss, I don’t want it to get spun wrong |
And this for Big L, the block that Joe found Pun on |
This shit is for Stack, I ain’t talking a G |
Nigga I’m talking a G! |
My nigga talking on me |
This is for every living rapper ever walked in these streets |
And any outsider that happen to think that a portion is sweet |
Niggas been killed for less and got a coffin for free |
If you ever been in the hood, I think we all should agree |
This for every nigga that took what you said in stride |
I couldn’t abide, some of us still take pride, check it |
Limbs’ll get crushed, hip hop’s adrenaline rush |
Men’ll get touched, so if you feminine hush |
Project benches I trust, came from syringes and dust |
So who you named shouldn’t be mentioned with us |
But wait, at least half of em', other half rapped around |
Dual clips that wrap around, gather every rapper 'round |
See what happen when niggas try to go toe to toe |
This what happen when you let a blood bath overflow |
Used to do lines, how could they wanna go blow for blow |
I could overdose and still drag you niggas comatose |
This is lightweight, put the bucks up |
Cause if we talking bars lot of y’all should shut the fuck up |
This is lightweight, put the bucks up |
If we talking bars lot of y’all should shut the fuck up |