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GAME, THE

Buddens(Joe Budden Diss)

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Текст песни GAME, THE - Buddens(Joe Budden Diss)

GAME, THE - Buddens(Joe Budden Diss) слова песни



Текст песни GAME, THE - Buddens(Joe Budden Diss)




-Game talkin-(pshh) We got a problem Houston...Not Marcus Houston, or his lil' rappin side kickWe got a real motha fuckin problem...And theres only gonna be one of these songs,After that I'ma knock your motha fuckin ass out...( )-verse 1-Bitch niggas get put in a coffinWith all that psychopath talkinYou listenin to da source, and I ain't from bostonI'm gang bangin, red G-6'sCall 'em how I see em, these niggas is bitchesAnd clue put this nigga on a songNow it's G-unit and I came to get it onYou ain't hot, nigga you luke warmI'll hog tie your ass wit G-unit shoes onYou had pump it up, that was a cool songYou only sold 10 records nigga now move onTalkin bout you got ratchets and twos onwhen You was at the allstar game wit no jewels onI cant believe I gave you dapWit da 45 on me, I should've gave you datPistol whipped you, layed you flatJumped off Buddens, nah a disgrace for a yankee hatAnd it's time to state my bizOnly nigga pushin Rock in jersey is Jason KiddYou a phony nigga, I erase your witHave you runnin to da church like Mase done did.Buddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensYou don't know me..foolTo dis me on DJ..ClueI don't need no assistanceto dig you a ditch andAny problem I got, I just put my clip inYou fake like Janet's tittyOne call, 300 bloods at Atlantic CityYou bad boy then dance like diddyI give celebrity beat downs, I bring da camera wit meOn dat mixtape shit, you know my man was 50And I keep some chrome in da tanish dickiesSmoke nigga like a gram of stickyAnd I know my way to Harlem, I'd take you to Branstons wit meCome to Compton, you'll vanish quicklyI got niggas in da hood dat'll kill you for a can of Migee'sGangs of L.A. we never die..And we'll let hollow tips fly at Joe..Buddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensI drive through da desert storm, kick up dustRed and blue rags hanging outta pick up trucksGet banks on da phone, nigga hit Young BuckTell him we got a problem wit dis dumb fuckYou was just in da city of angelsIn da W lobby, in da presence of gangstasI'm da nigga dat'll beat you wit da stainlessAnd leave you alive so you can run and tell Skane (bitch)I got niggas in Jersey, dat'll hang youI'ma Los Angeles king, wit New York rangersAnd you lucky Yayo got dat beeper in his ankleJoe Buddens da true definition of a wangstaBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, BuddensBuddens, Buddens, Buddens-Game talking-Dis nigga try and act like he ain't know wat da fuck he was doinYou knew what you was doin niggaStop lying to da fuckin people niggaGo jump on a freestyle, niggas on dat fly shitTry to dis G-Unit niggaAnd I'm on da fuckin first verseYou ain't slick niggaI caught dat shit like a mother fuckinGregg Mayers fastball nigga50 get Dre on da phoneSee if dat nigga remember what Joe Buddens 2nd single wasCause I don'tI took a survey in da hood nigga, went to da projectsAsked bitches if they was feelin your shitThey was like "Nope."Went to da hood, asked niggas if they was feelin your shitThey was like "Nope."Then I went to Jersey, caught me a fuckin flight manTook my last $500 manFlew to jersey, asked niggas in Jersey if they liked your shitThey was like "Nope."So I said fuck it, I'ma take this nigga motha fuckin head offBlackWallStreet, AfterMath, G-G-G-G-Unitu know wat it is nigga, and u know where to find me...




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