The second track off Mood Muzik 4. Lyrics posted under "Let's Go...'.
[Verse 1]Download: Joe Budden - Mood Muzik 4 (DatPiff)
Look, shout to all my fans, glad I can inspire ya'll
got a couple haters, still tryna acquire more
you're prayin' to a higher power, hopin' I should fall
but even my writer's block ends in a fire war
e'rybody act reckless, judgin' by their past efforts
if they ran shit, why it won't show up on their track records
how could the critics ever hear me and say I'ma suffer
how when they play with words, and I make 'em play with each other
choppers over the booth, ready for prime time
come one with his thoughts, intertwine with his minds
go toe-to-toe, blow-for-blow or do it rhyme for rhyme
be competitive coke heads and go line-for-line
honestly that crap of yours, you should raffle off
with me, they gettin' Genius Bars from the Apple store
under the microscope, I rebut the scrutiny
if I'm to be compared it's only to who I used to be
take a closer look at rappers and you might discover
it's f-ggots talkin' boxin', avoid the Mike Buffers
now you the type to cuff her
me? I get tired of her
see you the type to get hype to hug her but try won't try and f-ck her
no pencil thin bitches, me that ain't the style he dates
mine sit on the bed and leave an imprint of a smiley face
introduce the new-comers to me habitat
that comes before the storm, this the debris from the aftermath
[Verse 2]
Lemme change pace, the alternate route's a long one
but you ultimately end up in the same place
so I tell aspiring artist 'think beyond greater'
I know some niggas with platinum plaques and bronze paper
but better livin' should be earned, never fed or given
so I traded my recognition instead for a vision
they always told me that I'd end up dead or in prison
who ever thought the same dude gettin' head while he whippin'
at the chicks would hang up on, give 'em the dial tone
now buyin' wild homes, straight cash without loans
I always managed to do better when his doubt shown
I'll teach you how to turn them diamonds into milestones
class is in session and look who's come to tutor
they passin' the fake off like it's real like Brian Pumper's jeweler
where I'm from niggas fear gettin' slumped by shooters
but my equals to dumpin' rugers is bein' done by computers
I'm gettin' bread, every verse like the lotto
give 'em substance but they treat every word like it's a hollow
my niggas off parole, I'm tryna give 'em somethin' pure to follow
'cause he ain't have a pot to piss in, just a urine bottle
I come from where so many people were raised with neglect
cops tryna meet their quota, thirsty to make an arrest
all my wrongdoing's did was put my faith to a test
which made me much stronger, guess my mistakes were correct
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