Joe Budden - Onslaught lyrics

[Verse 1 - Royce Da 5'9"] You dealin with a four-headed monster Y'all are John McCain, you can't lift your arms up These po-ranhas, live by a certain code of conduct f** fly hoes and blow ganja He a prophet, predict sh** The year 2029 is gon' be the apocalypse caused by the Apophis - me I got it lock and key Tell the labels we 'bout to go on a shoppin' spree And if y'all don't wanna sign us, you corny Tell your hoes swallow two of these nuts and call us in the mornin' We the answer, to the dance floor please You gotta f** us all b**h, you can't Or-tease Budden, Crooked, Nickel, damn who*e please We up in this b**h like trans or see We the Voltron crew, it's whatever your folks wan' do We turn this b**h into SOCOM 2 I'm the best rapper alive, Lil Wayne's migraine Jay-Z's headache, touchin' what the lead ain't Motherf** your feelings, you don't know with what you're dealin' Tryin to "ketchup", you mustard spillin' I'm amongst hustlers k**in' Money stacks touch the ceiling, what a f**in' feelin' You will never feel, you will never sell You can't see me, feel me, they should use my knuckles instead of Braille I walk with the toast - feelin like How the f** is talk is cheap? Talk is what's gon' cost you the most I'm the one really yo I'm the gun spark like Omilio, you a J-Hood done video That ain't a diss so please don't diss me The mag' barrel longer than the G's on 50 I tell a b**h click your heels twice and ease on with me This is the life... we gone [Verse 2 - Joe Budden] I ain't with the leanin' and rockin' That ain't even seen as a option, n***a as a teen I was mobbin' Stick him up, if it's in his jeans then I'm robbin Mayne, walk around like the thing get to co*kin' (what?) But I ain't even tryna be seen when it's poppin' You ain't seen hoppin 'til you seen with a rocket Pull up, lookin' real clean in the drop and (n***a) I ain't hit the bing or a cot since Dog, tell your whole team ya cannot win 'Til they make some type of vaccine, I'm a problem I don't sleep on a soul, got that wrong (n***a) Even Ben Vereen can get tapped on Clapped on, mashed on, like M.O My M.O. is Rambo, ammo Got money now so there's marble on the handle On wax so let's beef with no candles Dismantled, click, bam! Got some sh** your man won't with-stand (n***a!) I make the hood like V.I.P Now you can't even get in without a wrist-band I'm just, bland Learn when you walk with your head too high is when sh** hits the fan Damn, Grant Hamblin, grand tamperin' In two bars I'll send your mans scramblin' Now how it feel to throw punches and can't land 'em? Or be powerless while you can't stand 'em And treat Comp like Richard Simmons Behind closed doors the boy gon' manhandle him Get out-paced 'til you out the race If you worried about your face, about face (n***a!) Cause, if you ain't all about your papes Then n***a you a transgender, all outta place [Verse 3 - Crooked I] When I face off, picture a thug missin' his mug Any particular stick in the mud could get hit with a Scud missile 'til he's, drippin' ridiculous blood If you, rather stick to the fists and the gloves Then you, gettin' hit on, more than the prettiest b**h in the club n***a I'm itchin to bug! Itchi'n like a syphilis dick, itchin' like the skin of a b**h Addicted to d**, just to hit you with slugs I did it because I wanted to! Shoot you in back of your head right in front of you That's what the gun'll do All I do is son ol' n***as on the W All I do is make all newcomers come anew I ain't lyin', sir You ain't gotta watch Tim Duncan jump to see a flyin Spur Bentley boy, no it's not "H to the Izzo" But I push bu*tons like Jay shoulda did Joe People's choice, the voice of my time With Royce Da 5'9", we boys and night shine I let Joell poison my mind Grab a silencer and k** y'all noise with my 9 As Spalding balls'll get tossed in the hoop Pierce from Boston explains how often I shoot I'm a Molotov crossed with a nuke See I swallow liquor bottles 'til they hollow then I crawl in the booth I'm the truth, polygraph Crooked You prolly have a cardiac heart attack when I autograph bullets Mo' caskets - put so much bread on your head When my gunners are done, man they owe taxes Bow-legged, knock-kneed, one irregular shoe And you supposed to be steppin' to who? Tell 'em All Crooked came for war The best ever on the West unless your last name's Shakur [Verse 4 - Joell Ortiz] Just be easy buddy, relax Please don't have me bloody my axe Or revvin' my chainsaw to sever your brain off With no concentration I'm better than Adolf Never been laid off, forever put in work As beats and skeets I f**ed every b**h that said I was a jerk Heh, it's like you cuter when you word maneuver Got every dot-com in my palm and I don't know how to work computers Yeah it's true, Slaughterhouse, I know you heard the rumors That's new but '02 e'ry verse was ruder Than you worthless losers So we formed a four alien alliance, just dyin' to earth intruders E'rybody's a president, bunch of Herbert Hoovers If what I said had legs it could burn a cougar Speakin' of burn, I'm hip-hop sixty shots of Henny on the rocks You're eggnog with a squirt of Kahlua Can't lie, it's mad fun bein' zoned My flow is straight, yours slant like Gumby's dome Lotta guys don't want me on But as long as I get in a spot with my fists, my gun be home I will beat you dudes like you stole from moms In an audience at shows I just fold my arms I'm so disappointed in you new rap guys I'm like no! C'mon, how'd he do that? Why? Oh, no, he diggity do that doe "I'm MC so-and-so, where's my ringtone dough?" See that ain't gon' cut it long as I'm around That goes for every person, place or thing that describes a noun It's J-O-E-double what I never take Whoever feel they could give me my first one then set a date I'll Be There like a young Mike Jack' Hip-Hop prayed and God gave Pun right back