Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hiatus, artist - Joe Budden. Album song Mood Muzik 3 (The Album), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 08.10.2015
Record label: Amalgam, Stage One
Song language: English
Hiatus |
Two years, waits up, still sleep, wake-up |
Girl gone, break-up, mind right, cake up |
Friends came, friends left |
Bullshit is endless, been next |
Hip-Hop, really not impressed |
Maybe just my love died |
Sober, still above high |
Slugs fly, eyes sucked dry, still a thug cries |
I cried 'till I can’t cry no more |
Believe my own nonsense, I can’t lie no more |
Soul dead, breathless; |
I can’t sigh no more |
Wheels already fell off, I can’t ride no more |
I guess I pack up all of my belongings and just troop it |
You know it’s beef when a smart nigga gets stupid |
Cause then it’s justified, rationale nullified |
Steven shot 8 times, almost thought my brother died |
See he was raised different, I know his mother tried |
His arms tied, I’m trying to teach dude to touch the sky |
But still shorty wild, turned on by 40 Cals |
Was young, never saw me wild, clutch Robert Horry style |
No wonder I picked-up triggers to beef |
I only ever fist fought wit niggas bigger than me |
I never been the one to try and grab shit in my reach |
Incompliant, you have now witnessed the breach |
I feel like life is all written, understand my math |
Got on my knees, told God I had a plan, He laughed |
I mean… hours passed, no sleep, cowards get a slow leak |
Showered twice the whole week, powerless control freak |
Thinkin' about suicide, won’t though I’m scrutinized |
Life nigga; |
do or die, hood want 'em crucified |
Jewelry on, fresh dressed, model broads excess |
Phone calls, death threats, tell me what’s the next step |
What’s what, who’s who, paranoid as usual |
Grippin' on my deuce-deuce, either way a lose-lose |
All I need is one mic, razor blades, gun fights |
Room without no sunlight, understand son’s plight |
If done right, won’t seek and fail |
I don’t follow the path, I’m creatin' my own to leave a trail |
It’s no rhyme or reason nor reason or rhyme |
No more food for thought, shit deceasin' the mind |
Now they doubtin' my desire, second guessin' my fashion |
Like bringin' of weapons of mass in when you question my passion |
I live for this, not the Baguettes and the fame |
Got signed havin' an answer, then the question changed |
Sayin' Jump Off don’t sound right is blasphemous downright |
I astound mics, music is just what feelings sound like |
So even though when I do it it’s flames |
For a while felt like I was makin' music in vain |
We don’t do it same, I use it for change |
Y’all do it for change, I use it for pain |
But keep doin' ya thang' Soundscan skyrocket |
Build all this hype 'bout it, prayin' people might cop it |
This is just my logic, maybe it’s psychotic |
Though labels try to stop it this is my antibiotic |
So lemme' start doin' what dudes like |
A nigga in the booth feelin' fresher than some new Nikes |
Dawg, and I cruise like cruise control |
Fuck that! |
I can’t do it, I might lose my soul |
Even though it should help a nigga to his goal |
Would defeat the whole purpose |
Naw, that ain’t what Jers is |
Naw, that would be worthless |
Bars soundin' nervous |
A nigga much deeper than what you see on the surface |
I’d rather resort back to snatchin' purses |
Finally understanding what the gift and the curse is |
If I was more concerned about a purchase |
I would tell y’all it’s about to go down like bird shit |
It takes courage, me versus urges |
A wordsmith that got caught-up in label merges |
And what’s worse is, I been deserted in the circus |
Up-and-left the circuit, it’s dead like hearses |
Sicker than them pedophiles workin' in them churches |
That ain’t the type shit I deem fit for my verses |
Dawg, so lemme' help niggas understand Mouse |
Dawg, why try to fit in when you a stand-out? |
It’s no album, but the money never ran out |
Aside from rap, I’m kinda' focused on land now. |
(You know?) |
Cause I don’t know whurr' the game is |
I know we jus' been attacked by a Hurricane Chris |
Some niggas can’t fathom what money and fame is |
Or some niggas get it by usin' they stainless |
Or some niggas get it, but they can’t sustain it |
Me? |
I’m regular Joe, I don’t let it change shit |