Joe Budden - The Return lyrics

rate me

This for return the real hip hop no image, no gimax,

I am real rap down to the drip drop

and we can take this to the tip top

you the like type no fight night night from a rip shot,

my shit stove top hot, make it real hot,

bake it in the pan, hatin on your man soul,

I guess they hate that miracle contempt,

punch lines, metaphors they on that terrible non-sense

I'm a miracle unblessed the stretchers rap game

in this world full of rappers somehow I rap bless

cast talk crapper like clappin bless text,

but they have no heart, I guess they lack chess

and their new chicks better ask but less bracks

these things don't appeal, so I guess they lack sex,

hip hop is back left whack in the pass text,

I'm bury in these lands come carry the casket.

Joe, let's get em!

I watch the best get worse, the worse get better

I watch niggas gangsta I was the first to get up,

seem foe show love, friends hate me fanster

see builds kelly girls don't associate the rappers,

see women that I love go out, pay with it make me mad,

like they don't know how serious still need me to check me after,

no seduce with the kind of the hoster,

that I try to stay away from when I turn on my shoulders,

wait, I try to stay away with none of them sober

'cause I never knew where one of that go a few

see, real niggas get the poor it,

stitches get applaud it, all I miss the bullshit to get record it,

and get pop die, watch the resurrect,

the..tell you how if I recollect,

but never seen and do with a finish me,

think it could prove me wrong, feel free intervene, show me.

Yeah, open your daughters blows, stash a pack quarter aunts

me and Mogus slow the house, thicker than the porter house,

sicker than the picture of a dick up in your daughter's mouth,

I'm harder as ground, you know hall and house,

fake f*cks get body back to make-up

run in this new class so rappers keep your face up

got a couple bottles on, ice call me Jacob the jewel

sick pop rick rubbel the medula huda

f*ck is this new count rippin on microphone,

you know I don't play around on that microphone,

homie you know I put it down on the microphone,

turn down the B turn up the sound on that microphone,

so you can hear me out of clear, I don't fear no man

blow man, I'm cold in the barbarian

I'm out of here, no man want it with the boy,

on the same f*ck around and I'm bury em.