Joe Budden - Give Me Reason lyrics

Whoahhhhhhhhh, whoa Ladies and gentlemen, you now rockin with the best (Geah) Jersey City, stand up Patterson, stand up Off top.. Just Blaze! [Joe Budden] Hold up n***a, slow up n***a Don't start a war unless your dough's up, n***a Know what n***a? Joe's up n***a Y'all shouldn't cry about it, grow up n***a Guess what y'all? I know magic I could make your pulse dissapear and no hat trick d**h threats - it ain't phase me When I bring the T-Mac through the Rucker y'all, it ain't Tracy Sewed up n***a, low cut n***a So keep talin bout your wrists froze up n***a You might see 30 whips roll up n***a We be at the pawn shop givin your Rol' up n***a Just wanted to make that known, you seen _New Jersey Drive_ Round here, leave that Maybach home Before we vick that homes, we be on y'all jerks You'll find out the hard way if your On*Star works, cause [Chorus: repeat 2X] I don't, need a reason to bust my guns So don't, give me reason to bust my guns You might, be the reason I bust my gun (Pa-pow, pa-pow - pa-pow, pa-pow) [Joe Budden] 'Til my day's up n***a, stay up n***a Play Tony Montana, get your face cut n***a That goes out to all of you play thug n***az How you want it, long nose or the trey snub n***a? Return and die dog, if I start clappin in your crib Nah I ain't tryin to turn the lights off Trapped on the chain, got the j**els and cape Be like Jared, Subways made him lose his weight, but look I'm bout gettin money for all races Only oldie but goodie I know is small faces Wait, make you sure you heard right; woulda been put the hit out But I ain't tryin to get my third strike Lace up n***a, say what n***a? Your Maybelline raps that you make-up n***a Wake up n***a, stakes up n***a For all my locked-down and my cased-up n***az, cause [Chorus] [Joe Budden] Who's that n***a? New cat n***a Don't disrespect, don't do that n***a Hate to hear the sound of the tool clap n***a Dual strap n***a when I do black n***az First hand with a three-eighty kickback Brains on your lap dog, babysit that Look, it's my turf, get up off the stoop now I'm Omar Epps, who got the "Juice" now? Street love n***a, G's up n***a You lookin for a loan on your re-up n***a Haters might wanna put hollows in ya When you're young black spendin like a lotto winner y'know I'm grown up now, I'm done with Jake When I say pounds y'all I'm talkin bout London cake I can serve it to you uncut or somethin baked Hope you ready for me folks, cause I'm comin your way, cause [Chorus] - fades out