Joe Scudda - 3:16 lyrics

Chorus Left me standin here On this lonely street to cry [MURS] This is a Living Legends, Justice League Definitive Jux presentation Brought to you by 9th Wonder aaand MURS [Verse 1: Murs] What up though, still givin' a f** so Open up your changer and get ready to dump those Disc of the dudes that be soundin' the same They get up on TV, steady clownin' for fame Disrespectin' ancestors that was bound in them chains But I'm around in the game so thangs is bound to change I'm tryin to walk that thin line between intelligence and ignorance Have a little fun while makin' music of significance A nemesis to n***as just bumpin' they gums I give a f** where you from, it's where your heart at b**h You gon' bite, little doggy, or just bark that sh**? A slave to the rhythm, 9th spark that whip Cause my heart can't quit, I got something to say Cause these n***as wanna act N.W.A n***as With Artillery and nothin' to spray Just some non-writing a**holes with nothin' to say [Hook & 9th Wonder speaking] That's right motherf**as Old salty a**, sideways a** motherf**as Y'all f**ed up now, huh? MURS, get em [Verse 2: MURS] I'm from where we leaving running and we hop outta cars Jump out and beat you down in some new All-stars No stars and stripes, just bars and pipes And n***as just start shootin', they too hard to fight I'm scarred for life, and charge this mic with bars of fright Dare any one of you frauds to bite I'm raw as life with loss of wife and cause of strife Spittin' sharp wit like I floss with knives Not contrived or conceited, on your radio repeated I'm elitist and I leave this Red Hot like Kiedis I'm a Californicator, and a street narrator Steady runnin' rappers down until they meet their maker Concrete caretaker to these weak imitators, they a Screech to my Slater, piece of beef to a gator or the Heat versus Lakers, I'mma speak to ya later And let 9th take me out with techniques and a fader [Hook & Joe Scudda speaking] What's wrong wit y'all man? The f** is y'all thinkin' bout? Damn, them motherf**as is lame man, get ya sh** right man [Verse 3: Murs] I'm from the home of Double K, nothin' but trouble gang KWS's, LTS's, OFA's And every other crew that used to rack cans and spray And mob the RUD before the MTA So don't hate what I say or talk down when I bust mine Tryin' to make some green like the Culver city bus line I'm unsigned and hyped, dump mines on sight This Living Legend gang, what you punks rhymin' like? I combine with 9th, sickest with these beats I mean so sick like he's forgettin' to eat A hard man to take down like Michael Vick on his feet And anybody chose me they was thinkin' defeat I'mma spit with this heat until I get my credit I'm a verbal martial artist like I'm signed to Shady Records And you b**hes best respect it or I will destroy you Have your whole crew screamin' out "You're My Boy Blue!"