Joe Budden - Onslaught 2 lyrics

[Royce Da 5'9"] (Ohh!) Yeah (let's go!) I said once upon a time in a city that's mine There was a n***a named Nickel that spit like Big in his prime He got a 52 box, original tick in the mind Listening to Pac and them drop with a prestigious design My n***as is dimes, my b**hes is dimes I came up behind Eminem in '99 and I took the baton I been running sh** ever since then, slaughtered MC's Sit and watching my green grow, like I'm watering seeds The problem with me is I'm the heart of the streets n***as calling for peace, they can't even call the police If I ain't better than you I'm harder to beat Probably cause I live by the art of for-keeps I get indicted after my product's released We a different form, a different centrifugal force Every line is like gripping on a stick shift in a Porsche My n***as asked for direction to go on this track I said fu*k a direction, spaz out! Get 'em up HIGH [Female] Crooked [Crooked I] And for them wack songs that you made I want you to throw your pin, but hold the grenade Explode to your grave - and go straight to hell When your soul is enflamed for the road that you paved The role that you played, in f**ing up hip-hop You owe so you paid, the fo'-fo' close to your brain Closer than the close shave of a low f**ing fade Don't f** with me, don't f** with J-O-E With Nickel we gon' make more cheese Heavy hitter, call me Joell David Ortiz (what up!) I point a burner at the plaque on your teeth On some leftover sh**, it's a wrap on the beef I'm one in a mil', comin' to k** It's like you won an appeal, my gun put your back on the streets Spine on the concrete looking at the sun Eyelids heavy, "Why did Crooked have to come? He was full of 'gnac and rum, like a bully acting dumb" Fully-automatic umm, that's Crooked having fun Listen, don't make a n***a find your dame And make the dime give me brains 'til my mind is drained Listen, don't make me grab a 9 and aim And how your dime did me, do yo' mind the same But different, the West Coast king Crooked I I'm a kamikaze pilot, I stay fly 'til I die, get 'em up HIGH [Female] Joell [Joell Ortiz] Here we go again, you know I'm him, Mr. Ortiz Soon as I hold a pen I co-defend the sickest MC's (Slaughterhouse) Pick a disease we got it, I vomit sniffle and sneeze Lyrics squeeze, listen please, Lord help get rid of this fever I'm like 150 degrees 16's used to be sweet, now they're a bit of a tease A n***a need a infinite instrumental just to be pleased Used to dream about livign now I'm living my dreams The b**hes fiend, made my dick a machine Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I am just as f**ing big as I seem When I'm spitting this mean, me and government intervene A couple presidents, literally live in my jeans I give 'em residence, they just let me pick anything When I'm in the mall, they show me the latest kicks on the scene And I get 'em all, I ball like the n***a I am n***as hate, b**hes Cheer like Norm, Cliff and Diane I'm in a state, of mind that should be the fifty first I run radio, but I don't use them itty bitty words I ain't shabby with the nouns, I ain't sh**ty with the verb When I reach heaven I want the n***a Biggie to be like "Word" City slicker, New York delivery when I swerve Hold that mic like the Statue of Liberty, I deserve A shot at the title, Spitter of the Year E'ry year, let's be clear, put some fingers in the air And hold 'em up HIGH {*echoes*} [Female] Joey [Joe Budden] Work on your half-court shot, I'm money from far Get 'em mad, see a ape on your monkey bars And that's rate, getting hate from the wannabe stars And that's great, mean he feel it and know he numb See that bullet coming from around the corner Like a shot from Angelina Jolie's gun; think Joey the one I'm a fake? Ain't your run-of-the-mill I'm from where they k** you for one of your bills For me it's fun, your man think we evenly sk**ed He Mel Gibson, all that sh** he believe, gon' get his son k**ed Play with a match, fu*k what you take it as No good straight jacket, all I did break the match They say he talk tough with his fake a** Four pounds put me in another weight cla** Great Escape the pad Took the jumpsuit off my naked a** and ate the mask You diss me, you wanna be a great that fast? Take a fully-automatic and spray at gas Me? Body a whole sh** with a verse probably atrocious In your whole camp, nobody focused They say you the Ultimate Warrior, I agree You die and come BACK, won't nobody notice Drive by, screaming it's a new crew repping Hanging out the window, like it's "227" Get 'em up HIGH [Fatman Scoop] Get 'em up high, get 'em up high Get 'em up high, get 'em up high Get 'em up high, in the sky Put 'em up high, put 'em up high Put 'em up high, fingers in the sky Put 'em up! Slaughterhouse, Slaughterhouse Ohh, ohh, Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse Put 'em high, woo! Ohh {*echoes*}