Released: December 26, 2005

Songwriter: Nathan East Philip Bailey Phil Collins Ron Browz Joe Budden

Producer: Ron Browz

[Verse]
You now listenin' to a different type of boss
Abstract, they cut him from a different type of cloth
Jers say that Mouse went a different type of soft
Only started when I was lookin' at different type of lofts
Told 'em, I'm a don, show me somethin' with a pool next
And I need four bathrooms, it ain't gotta be a duplex
White tee, boots yes, see 'em in a suit next
Or somethin' European shirt lookin' like a 2X
Runnin' for the ball like I'm Plaxico Burress
Or in Cancun breakin' a back on a brunette
Gimmicks down pat like they rehearse that much
I don't respond to a sublime, it ain't hurt that much
Yea I scream out Jers that much
'Cause these other dudes fightin for New York like it's worth that much
And these sitcom niggas caress and hold bitches
To them they Golden Girls, to me, they old bitches
Chicks lookin' to G you, cons lookin' to cheat you
Owe a nigga money, you know he lookin' to see you!
Niggas lookin' to beat you
Fiends treat the hood like its Saw part two, 'cause they just lookin' for needles
I wake up grateful that I'm breathin' first
'Cause dudes'll kill you, they don't need a reason first!
These niggas'll still hit 'em
They know the hood is too poor to hire CSI, and Gil Grissom
Nowadays, gotta keep his blue steel with 'em
I know about snakes, 'cause I used to deal with 'em
Used to give my heart, used to rob, steal, with 'em
Let 'em meet mom, share my last meal with 'em
To rap now, you ain't gotta have skill with 'em
Just appeal (with 'em)...with a little rhythm
A dude has that and ready to attack y'all
You gotta kiss ass or else you get blackballed
If you don't like niggas, still give 'em dap y'all
I swear to God this hip hop shit is a trap y'all
I don't even remember how I used to act y'all
Something's wrong with the math, I know I can add y'all
I came out screamin' Desert Storm everyday
And soon as I stop, he don't wanna play
Stacks sayin' what you did for Clue, shit I just laced it
I didn't even know that dude was doin' his tape, shiiiitt
He don't want the fame no more, it's fuckin' with me
Don't hear Reasonable Doubt the same more
I can't listen to Blueprint (naaw!)
Got a resentment toward Hov', tryin' to hate on 'em, throwin' in my two cent
They say don't bite the hand that feeds you
Even if I wanted to, I can't, no teeth to
Don't get me wrong, still I love Clue and Hov'
But they both rich, so what that gotta do with Joe?!
I gotta bring home food for Joe...Trey that is...
Like, fuck why I say that shit?!
C4 why you take that shit?
But it's just how I feel, so naw, don't erase that shit
Child support's a bitch, but I take care of mine
But the law just say that I ain't there for mine
And the judge I look at (what about?)
Don't wanna hear, nor do he understand that things got pushed back
I'm sittin' here with all this anger, stop me
He's like what about this thing called a Gangsta Party?
Must think I live life like it's a Gangsta Party!
I'm 10 seconds away from a GANGSTA ROBBERY, NIGGA!!
No four leaf clover, I can't luck up
Feel like removin' the seeds and gettin' fucked up
Feelin' quick temper, somebody bound to get fucked up
I feel like everyone around me's a FUCK UP!
Ratchet on me, I'm screamin' out "what what!"
'Bout to live life like my last buck's up
I ain't got time to run around stuck up
Not when I just seen a group of niggas gettin' stuck up
So you damn right, I'm on my grind
Look like some shit is on my mind, niggas
Need to talk, but nobody to turn to
So I go to horoscopes in the Jersey Journal
It's always somethin' bad, I don't know why I read it
Then I play it off, it's fake, I don't believe it!
Smokin' like two packs a day
Still got about five cartons stashed away
And that's just were I'm at today
I'll be in a better place if I just passed away (sike!)
Just hop in the casket and lay
That's old school Mouse, move on, put the past away

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.