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Joe Budden - don't make me |
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Top down with the fresh cut |
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With A. Baker (Anita Baker) through the speakers, 'Best Of' |
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A crisp white tee, I'm still feelin' dressed up |
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Everythin' else healthy, don't get me messed up |
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A good pair of shades on, you gon always see me in disguise |
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Not for style, I don't want you to seein' my eyes |
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But for now, tell God hurry my plans |
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Cause I just had to bury my man |
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Us two was on some brother shit |
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But if I learned anythin', |
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if you take life for granted it'll grant you some other shit |
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I know I can't be the only one troubled with |
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I talk 'bout hard shit like I discovered it |
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Thought I had enough of it, still won't cut a wrist |
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I just wrote the book, he published it |
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Simply read holdin' back the years |
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Cause when I strayed, it looked like he holdin' back some tears, he sayin' |
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music...... |
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Sometimes I feel like it's a ghost behind me |
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Nudge in my back, got the toast behind me |
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Clockin' my every move, takin' notes behind me |
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Crowd laughin', there must be a 'Roast' behind me |
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But the boy won't bend |
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Though the road to the riches is startin' to look like it don't end |
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I'm on 9-5 speedin', truly love it |
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No idea where I'm goin', that's the beauty of it |
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But still I'm here waitin' on a sign |
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Or a F.Y.I. to be notified, cause (WHY) |
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Do it matter what he got it store for niggas if they too broke to buy |
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I know I want heart, my back carryin' some tons ya'll |
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From the devil's bedroom on to his front yard |
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Pop up in the backseat and keys the chauffeur |
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Let em know before I hop out with him on my shoulder, I said |
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music...... |
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Wouldn't be smart to tangle wit ya guardian angel |
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Not when they got a strangle from every angle, head to ankles |
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Get mangled, so I don't got shit |
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My eyes everywhere, on my Stuart Scott shit |
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Tryin' to be fly every second that the clock tick |
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But there's a suicide bomber in the cockpit |
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See my intent is to be content |
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But that's contingent off fly hoe's usin' ?? |
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Since mama concieved me |
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Me and dude been stuck in a melee |
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He's tellin' me I gotta ball like Beasely |
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But I could give a **** how a nigga percieves me |
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So until God retrieves me |
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I'm followin' behind the nigga that misleads me |
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If need be, bounce from where he tryin' to keep me |
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But everytime I try he tells me that he needs me |
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End |
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