Joe Budden

Joe Budden - Family Reunion lyrics

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<FONT size="1"><B>(feat. Ransom, Hitchcock, Fabolous)</B></FONT><BR><BR>

<i>[Intro - Killa BH - talking]</i><br>

Uh oh!<br>

It's that time again<br>

It's been too long<br>

It's family reunion<br>

We got to school y'all to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)<br>

You know what let's talk to 'em (HUH?)<br>

Let's go (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)<br>

<br>

<i>[Joe Budden - talking behind Killa BH]</i><br>

Uh<br>

Mic check, mic check<br>

Check, one two, one two<br>

<br>

<i>[DJ On Point - talking]</i> <br>

Y'all already know what time it is (y'all already know what time it is)<br>

Family reunion (family reunion)<br>

Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), let's go<br>

<br>

<i>[Joe Budden - talking behind DJ On Point]</i><br>

The wolves is out niggaz, uh<br>

Get 'em boy<br>

<br>

<i>[Verse 1 - Ransom]</i><br>

Ain't nobody tryin to rap or play me<br>

I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV<br>

Black gonna pay me, still get the smack off Baisley<br>

Cause I'm touchin more diesel than Shaq old lady<br>

Boy, you did it, I done it, I get it, I punish<br>

The shit that I come with'll separate a riff from a stomach<br>

I'm the boss, when I spit it, you love it<br>

Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage<br>

Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is scared<br>

You got the throne? Then I think I need to sit in your chair<br>

We could really get physical here<br>

And the sky's the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air<br>

Baby, so quit playin, 'fore the clips spray 'em<br>

And have his MIA like Nick Saban<br>

His whole shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen<br>

Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit pavement<br>

You can't spit if you dead in the ground<br>

In the woods, where your head'll be found<br>

And it's good that you gettin it now, in the precinct confessin it now<br>

I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns, faggot<br>

<br>

<i>[Verse 2 - Hitchcock]</i><br>

High in the silence before the storm<br>

Lincoln Park, the Audubon<br>

Slang rock on the same block that the water on<br>

I be more than gone, run and get your order form<br>

Next time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on<br>

Cause she realer than most niggaz<br>

I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers with no figures<br>

That why I palm the heater, for all you non-believers<br>

I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza<br>

Better con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature<br>

Better get your casket bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya<br>

We ain't in the same weight class<br>

Your fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads<br>

I'm way past, anything that you ever did<br>

I'm better kid and we never sweat a bid<br>

It's easy to get a cig<br>

In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I bring pain<br>

I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm King James<br>

Y'all doubtin who?<br>

When I spit the whole lead, they be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew<br>

'Fore I count to two, you could get your back blown (OH!)<br>

Cause your chemic's out of minutes like a TracFone (NIGGA!)<br>

Get back homes, I'm back on my shit<br>

I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles, stackin my chips<br>

Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me type'<br>

Comin out with a "Blade" to get Wesley Snipes<br>

So the cops could arrest me, right? It's not happenin<br>

You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop rappin<br>

(H20) comin this summer, so stop askin<br>

All heat like Wall Street, it stop crashin<br>

Now the Feds want to read his rights<br>

Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got passion<br>

I'm black and all my niggaz gettin this 'feti<br>

We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags and (what? OH!)<br>

<br>

<i>[Chorus - Joe Budden - w/ ad libs]</i><br>

So whatever you tryin to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done)<br>

And since you want to live by it little nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)<br>

See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, I've already done (done)<br>

So how the fuck you gon' win little nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)<br>

<br>

<i>[Verse 3 - Fabolous]</i><br>

Like we always do it, d-d-damn<br>

Yes (yes), let's go (yes), uh huh<br>

Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I thought<br>

But when I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts<br>

That's when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short<br>

With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught<br>

And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & Wesson ya<br>

The shoes pop up like Instant Messenger<br>

You've got mail, naw nigga you got shells<br>

And my Mac, you can't use for iChat<br>

I've got that, confused that with live flat<br>

And my gat is on leg like thigh tat<br>

I that nigga, who you dudes<br>

Some broke niggaz who tryin to get some youtube views<br>

So 'less you want a point blank, boy you're too close<br>

Bail's in pocket, this is Lawyer Lou Los <br>

I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four door ridey<br>

Double pipes like a sawed off shotty, nigga<br>

<br>

(IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)<br>

<br>

<i>[Verse 4 - Joe Budden]</i><br>

I flow sickly, ridin, bumpin old Biggie<br>

Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie<br>

Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond vein<br>

I treat a nigga's face like the old Simon game<br>

Figured out why men try us<br>

Cause we OD on rims and then tires, for that we Len Bias<br>

All it takes is a punch<br>

He ain't brave, he a punk<br>

I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch<br>

How y'all feel yourselves?<br>

Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Bill Parcells<br>

And you ain't got to empty your pockets when the K's out<br>

Whatever you holdin is mine, we my PayPal<br>

See I don't get how this guy is a threat<br>

I make his life inept for a pie to the neck<br>

Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the death<br>

I a cappella the whole left side of his vest<br>

Not retirin, still got that pension pendin<br>

Tryin to pop the hood and see the engine missin<br>

Double barrelled shotgun, have your men get missin<br>

She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint condition<br>

Oh the cig in the car, you diss en moi<br>

Take the ratchet go home and just Chris Benoit<br>

Tell a bird like it is, you promise the broad<br>

I one line her (you), you Isiah Thomas the broad<br>

I could send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target<br>

And catch a ROR on some Jena 6 charges (naw)<br>

Naw, I'll put this thing away<br>

I don't even need a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one finger wave<br>

Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm real<br>

Come home to the truck with the Optimus Prime grill<br>

Handed out crack, got the scene poppin off<br>

They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is noddin off<br>

For real, tell me how you a thug and you Superman? (nigga)<br>

I just seen you in the club doin the Superman (nigga)<br>

A bunch of clowns homes<br>

All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone<br>

Major paper (I mean), cake by the layers<br>

If these dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player<br>

They callin 'em 'Kings' when they so so hot<br>

Something's wrong with that picture, must be Photoshop <br>

I don't promote violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM<br>

Arms start wavin like the Carlton Banks dance<br>

When them tools go pop, it move whole blocks<br>

Come around with your dog and get Cooljo shot<br>

These MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with brains<br>

These niggaz is MC Brains<br>

Bein nice, rappers is far from bein nice<br>

I'm on the rooftop recordin, niggaz is bein sniped<br>

It's like<br>

<br>

<i>[Chorus - w/ ad libs]</i><br>

<br>

<i>[Outro - DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]</i><br>

Shout to the whole BSC (whole BSC)<br>

Shout to my nigga Dru Cartier<br>

SlimeBugz, DJ Sunkiss<br>

The Don (The Don), Dre Bless (Dre Bless)<br>

DJ Baby Dru (DJ Baby Dru)<br>

My nigga Freeze<br>

<BR><BR>

<BR>

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