Joe Budden | Funk Flex | #Freestyle008

Lyrics

[Intro] My name is Joe Budden One fourth of the group Slaughterhouse And I came to tell the truth with Funkmaster Flex Mic check, mic check One two, one two First of all I want to shout out to House Gang Second of all and probably should be first of all, I want to shout out New Jersey Third of all I want to shout out to Flex I love everybody man [Verse 1] It's like my little dude smiled with excitement, asked if I know.. Wait, I stopped the whip, didn't acknowledge it I figured most of these styles I godfathered it That's Godfather shit, words be my only hollow tips That moment like I can stop time like with that Hollow kid Gospel with the Apollo shit, sorry I'm no apologist, wait Here's a glimpse of my stake and then if you may Niggas couldn't commence their successes without my mistakes See I tend to think in opposites, never moderate Look, momma, I made it this far without a scholarship The drama bouncing multiple commas I deposited All the more reason to look up 'cause I'm an optimist Nah, I'm a protagonist, speak with such honestness Bound to keep it funky with the blood stream of parliament No argument, follow in the blueprint that my hood wrote So every footnote put my foot in that quote The way it appears the grading system ain't fair Same result as the turtle chasing the hare Is what these races appear to differ Paces to gear help at making that clear You niggas ran off on the plug, not me, I stayed right there So if it's gotta be a thing the shotty gon' be clean You see the rage is even deadly outside of the machine Anytime they thought they had me robbed, got nothing off me Ninas had to drop uptown, brother was saucy The Nina woke a dreamer right up, cup of coffee Blink of an eye, Harlem niggas.. [Bridge] Fab what up though? Shout out to you Araab what up I see you my nigga you couldn't be here But you here in spirit And shout out to all the fans And shout out to Jersey City, Albee Al Check this out we gon do this like this [Verse 2] Listen, you never see how I handle the spot Been on both sides of the fence, seen the hammock and cot I give a fuck if young niggas understand it or not Sometimes you gotta show the kids you really ran with the Roc It's like I'm back on Def Jam again You niggas keep being deaf, I just jam again Ya'll see how I'm handling New Benz, big boy coupe, seat reclining though Black piping on white seats blastin' Domino I pull up, honk that horn, she know it's time to go She take long, windows down, I'm screaming "vámonos" Lately I've been dealing with hate, all kind of trolls I'm just tryna stack this bread, Phyllis Hyman notes But off that, my main point, back to rhyming though Bitches get beside themselves like watching Quantico And that fool get wet by the tool Play superhero here, might lead to a dead pool I'm surrounded by fuck niggas, always hated you niggas I'm feeling like Trump, nigga, I'm writing the trump nigga Them boys got you.. Jesus, Mary and Joseph Listen, relax partner Should back slap both you and the Snapchat blogger Wish ya'll were a tad smarter Besides you jabbed first, but both knew my jab back harder A tad fast like zab at the sparring, that man Tha Carter Look, for any man to bad bar up The Joe can get hot, just ask Starbucks Act of horror vs faggot's aura Feel like a bad father that ain't been off the bar much Listen, the bad charger to your Apple harbor Meanwhile you're mortal, you're more magic marker It's an issue, Joe make it a big one Can't Bell Biv DeVoe your way out of this one So I'm taking off Spring from my offspring Since the young boy want jump, we get him all spring Give him a reason since y'all don't like me I'm seasoned, better ask Kyle bout Lowry Listen, the top MC rep's over My nigga, I keep shooting 'till nothing's left over And while we're talking bout leftovers Four niggas... [Outro] Joe Budden Mood Muzik Entertainment Slaughterhouse Flex, Ali, Cyn, Mum, Dad, God Everybody I love I'm not in love, love is in me There's still MC's in the world Anybody got something to say If it ain't a bar I ain't addressing it If it ain't directly directed at me I don't respect it Jersey we gone