Songwriter: Zack Hemsey Dark Knight Music Joe Budden

Producer: Dark Knight Music

The bars show you mad struggle
Along with detailed scriptures of my past trouble
That’s why they try to keep me quiet with a bad muzzle
Can’t take the same leaps and bounds as me
When they lack the hustle and the calf muscle
Words from a legend speaking from the heart
Said, if you going to war, weaponry is a start
Do your dirt all by your lonely, let it be in the dark
You givin birds bread then let it be in the park, Joey
Tip me wrong, mini mall when the semi’s warm
Bout my bread, so I spot it if a penny’s gone
And I’ll bet, learned that from the nets
If you tryna be a Billionaire get rid of any Thorn
Cause you’ll get f-cked if they shoot you, emptied on
It’s just they way of making a mini porn
I watch my haters get sick
If it’s that hard living in my shadow
Get off my silhouette’s dick
Tailor made suits, double breast fit
Set trip, get your name on the next clip
Sometimes before you can add you gotta minus
Some of y’all don’t get the math or the science
It means I’m aiming for wealth
Some say sky’s the limit I say you’re short changing yourself
So uh ha, uh ha, y’all ain't the same as me, I get bread
You lose Jackson’s, Jermaine Dupri
BS about Joe, refrain it please
You’ll just untame a beast, he just became unleashed
All who defame are deceased, so the topic should pass
An assembly line would show em I'm not in they class
Had some alright jams, them fans came and left
And you ain’t know they was one night stands
Let em testify, witness’s, hearin is indicative
Niggas is sick of it, let it go, and get a grip

(Hook)
I think I’m Sug’ Ray, Ali
Joe Fraiz’ who the fuck gon stop me
He think he Holyfield, Iron Mike
Fo’ fifth let em feel what the iron like
I think I’m Mayweather, Pacquiao
Screamin money ain’t a thing pullin stacks out
I think I’m Cotto, Shane Mosley
Slow death to anyone who oppose me

(Verse 2)
Sun I’m a always shine, yellow
Think I’m about to get up on that? HELL NO
Long as shorty keep my tip hard, shell toe
Certain I’m a stick to the script, velcro
Ringers?, fakers, thinker, faders, prosper
Without being linked to the majors
My only response is the finger to haters
Watch it get ugly, Mbenga, Lakers
So when they ask how I feel about hip hop
I sighed and replied take a lucky guess
Just being sincere, I ain’t talking pioneer’s
When I tell dudes I don’t think the Dougie’s fresh
Used to roll through the trenches, slept on cold benches
Holds on my expenses, smoke till I was senseless
Now the flow’s so relentless
Fuck CD’s it should be sold in syringes
I can’t explain it they love the sound
Subtle with the pound, you don’t want trouble clown
If I’m at the bar ordering a couple rounds
I’m in between 2 birds like a double down
Where I’m from they cock and shoot
Like it’s all logical, send a lot of work to them hospitals
Dress the AK up before they pop at you
Handgun’s, night scope, call it the Chopper suit
So if you tired of all the wack dudes, call me in
Rap historian, slash my class’s Valedictorian
Your future’s at a stand still
Must be a flat on that Delorean
I tried tellin them conceded the deals closed
They disagree they believe that they real close
Tough guys turn talk show like Steve Wilko’s
Scream fuck em eat dildos with each pill dose
All the rap dudes they got highly regarded
Tell me they psyche might be slightly retarded
Nowadays before the shows I buy me a cartridge
Those them phony ass dudes they like me to start with
Peepin how the vets wanna stop me
Money where your mouth is Ted DiBiase
And he won’t be able to reach for a biscuit
With O’s on his head like a B-more fitted
Black hoody and black tux
Tearin stacks up, with a model and her rack tough
Gettin my Extreme Makeover on
Knock that bitch down and build her back up
Think twice before you act up
Around flames, wrong time to be gassed up
You never heard blowing smoke from a grass hut
9 times out of 10 it’ll be your last puff

(Hook)
I think I’m Sug’ Ray, Ali
Joe Fraiz’ who the fuck gon stop me
He think he Holyfield, Iron Mike
Fo’ fifth let em feel what the iron like
I think I’m Mayweather, Pacquiao
Screamin money ain’t a thing pullin stacks out
I think I’m Cotto, Shane Mosley
Slow death to anyone who oppose me

(End)

Joe Budden

Joe Budden is from Jersey City, New Jersey. He was born in Spanish Harlem but lived in Queens until he was 12 and from there moved to Jersey City, New Jersey. Budden is one of five boys (one older brother and three younger brothers – two are twin brothers). Budden heard music in his home (his father is a multi-instrumentalist) and on the streets while he grew up.

He is also one quarter of Slaughterhouse, alongside fellow rappers Royce da 5’9”, Joell Ortiz, and Crooked I.