Buddens (Remix)

Lyrics

[Intro] We got a problem Houston, Not Marques Houston or his little rapping side kick We got a real motherfuckin' problem And it's only gon' be one of these songs After that I'ma knock your motherfuckin' ass out [Verse 1] Bitch niggas get put in the coffin With all that psychopath talking You listening to the Source and I ain't from Boston I'm gang banging, wear G-6's Call em' how I see em', these niggas is bitches And Clue put this nigga on a song and now its G-Unit And I came to get it on You ain't hot, nigga you lukewarm I'll hog tie your ass with G-Unit shoes on You had Pump It Up that was a cool song You only sold 10 records nigga now move on Talking about you got ratchets and tools on When you was at the all-star game with no jewels on I can't believe I gave you dap With the .45 on me I should of gave you that Pistol whipped you laid you flat Jump Off Buddens, nah, disgrace to a Yankee hat And its time to state my biz Only nigga pushing rock in jersey is Jason Kidd You a phony, nigga, I'll erase your wig Have you running to the church like Mason did [Hook] Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens [Verse 2] You don't know me fool To diss me on Dj Clue I don't need no assistance to dig you a ditch And any problem I got I just put my clip in You fake like Janet's titty One call 300 Bloods in Atlantic city You Bad Boy? Then dance like Diddy I give celebrity beat downs I bring the camera with me On that mixtape shit you knew my man was 50 And I keep something chrome in them tanish dickeys Smoke niggas like a gram of sticky And I know my way to Harlem ill take you to bransons with me Come to Compton you'll vanish quickly I got niggas in the hood that'll kill you for a can of Mickey's Gangs of L.A. we never die And we'll let hollow tips fly at Joe [Hook] Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens [Verse 3] I drive through the desert storm kick up dust Red and blue rags hanging out of pick up trucks Get Banks on the phone, nigga hit Young Buck Tell em' we got a problem with this dumb fuck You was just in the city of angels In the W lobby in the presence of gangsters I'm the nigga that'll beat you with the stainless And leave you alive so you can run and tell stain Bitch, I got niggas in Jersey that'll hang you I'm a Los Angeles King with New York rangers And you lucky Yayo got that beeper on his ankle Joe Budden's the true definition of a wankster [Hook] Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens [Outro] This nigga try to act like he ain't know what the fuck he was doin' You knew what you was doing, nigga, stop lyin' to the fuckin' people, nigga Gone jump on a freestyle, nigga, on that fly shit Try to diss G-Unit, nigga And I'm on the fuckin' first verse You ain't slick, nigga, I caught that shit like a muthafuckin' Greg Maddox fast ball, nigga 50 get Dre on the phone See if that nigga remember what Joe Budden's second single was, 'cause I don't I took a survey in the hood, nigga Went to the projects asked bitches if they feelin' your shit They was like "no", haha I went to the hood asked niggas if they was feelin' your shit They was like "no" Than I went to Jersey, caught me a fuckin' flight, man, took my last 500 dollars, man Flew to Jersey, asked niggas in Jersey if they like your shit They was like "no", so I said "fuck it, I'ma take this nigga mutha fuckin' head off" Blackwall Street, Aftermath, G-G, G-Unit You know what it is, nigga And you know where to find me