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Family Reunion
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Joe Budden
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1
[Intro - Killa BH - talking]
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Uh oh!
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It's that time again
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It's been too long
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It's family reunion
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We got to school y'all to the game (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
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You know what let's talk to 'em (HUH?)
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Let's go (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
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[Joe Budden - talking behind Killa BH]
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Uh
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Mic check, mic check
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Check, one two, one two
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[DJ On Point - talking]
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Y'all already know what time it is (y'all already know what time it is)
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Family reunion (family reunion)
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Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), let's go
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[Joe Budden - talking behind DJ On Point]
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The wolves is out niggaz, uh
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Get 'em boy
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[Verse 1 - Ransom]
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Ain't nobody tryin to rap or play me
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I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV
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Black gonna pay me, still get the smack off Baisley
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Cause I'm touchin more diesel than Shaq old lady
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Boy, you did it, I done it, I get it, I punish
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The shit that I come with'll separate a rib from a stomach
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I'm the boss, when I spit it, you love it
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Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to plumage
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Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is scared
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You got the throne? Then I think I need to sit in your chair
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We could really get physical here
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And the sky's the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
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Baby, so quit playin, 'fore the clips spray 'em
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And have his MIA like Nick Saban
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His whole shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen
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Hard bodied nigga, my whole shit pavement
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You can't spit if you dead in the ground
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In the woods, where your head'll be found
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And it's good that you gettin it now, in the precinct confessin it now
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I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns, faggot
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[Verse 2 - Hitchcock]
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High in the silence before the storm
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Lincoln Park, the Audubon
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Slang rock on the same block that the water on
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I be more than gone, run and get your order form
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Next time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on
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Cause she realer than most niggaz
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I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold diggers with no figures
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That why I palm the heater, for all you non-believers
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I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
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Better con the preacher, you tryin to get on a feature
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Better get your casket bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
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We ain't in the same weight class
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Your fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads
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I'm way past, anything that you ever did
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I'm better kid and we never sweat a bid
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It's easy to get a cig
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In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I bring pain
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I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm King James
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Y'all doubtin who?
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When I spit the whole lead, they be callin Code Red, like Mountain Dew
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'Fore I count to two, you could get your back blown (OH!)
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Cause your chemic's out of minutes like a TracFone (NIGGA!)
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Get back homes, I'm back on my shit
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I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles, stackin my chips
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Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me type'
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Comin out with a "Blade" to get Wesley sniped
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So the cops could arrest me, right? It's not happenin
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You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop rappin
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(H20) comin this summer, so stop askin
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All heat like Wall Street, your stock crashin
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Now the Feds want to read his rights
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Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got passion
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I'm black and all my niggaz gettin this 'feti
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We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags and (what? OH!)
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[Chorus - Joe Budden - w/ ad libs]
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So whatever you tryin to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done)
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And since you want to live by it little nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
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See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, I've already done (done)
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So how the fuck you gon' win little nigga (nigga), I've already won (won)
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[Verse 3 - Fabolous]
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Like we always do it, d-d-damn
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Yes (yes), let's go (yes), uh huh
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Aiyyo, money is the root of all evil I thought
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But when I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts
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That's when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short
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With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught
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And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith & Wesson ya
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Your shoes pop up like Instant Messenger
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You've got mail, naw nigga you got shells
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And my Mac, you can't use for iChat
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I've got that, confused that will lie flat
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And my gat is on leg like thigh tat
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I that nigga, who you dudes
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Some broke niggaz who tryin to get some youtube views
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So 'less you want a point blank, boy you're too close
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Bail's in pocket, this is Lawyer Lou Los
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I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four door ridey
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Double pipes like a sawed off shotty, nigga
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(IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
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[Verse 4 - Joe Budden]
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Look, I flow sickly, ridin, bumpin old Biggie
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Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie
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Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond fame
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I treat a nigga's face like the old Simon game
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Figured out why men try us
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Cause we OD on rims and then tires, for that we Len Bias
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All it takes is a punch
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He ain't brave, he a punk
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I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch
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How y'all feel yourselves?
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Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Bill Parcells
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And you ain't got to empty your pockets when the K's out
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Whatever you holdin is mine, you my PayPal
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See I don't get how this guy is a threat
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I make his life inept for a pie to the neck
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Ride or die, if you both nigga, ride to the death
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I acappella the whole left side of his chest
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Not retirin, still got that pension pendin
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Tryin to pop the hood and see the engine missin
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Double barrelled shotgun, have your men get missin
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She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint condition
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Oh the cig in the car, you diss en moi
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Take the ratchet go home and just Chris Benoit
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I tell a bird like it is, you promise the broad
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I one line her (you), you Isiah Thomas the broad
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I could send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target
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And catch a ROR on some Jena 6 charges (naw)
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Naw, I'll put this thing away
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I don't even need a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it take is one finger wave
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Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm real
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Come home to the truck with the Optimus Prime grill
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Handed out crack, got the scene poppin off
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They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is noddin off
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For real, tell me how you a thug and you Superman (nigga)
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I just seen you in the club doin the Superman (nigga)
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A bunch of clowns homes
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All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone
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Major paper (I mean), cake by the layers
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If these dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player
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They callin 'em 'Kings' when they so so hot
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Something's wrong with that picture, must be Photoshop
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I don't promote violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM
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Arms start wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
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When them tools go pop, it move whole blocks
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Come around with your dog and get Cujo shot
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These MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with brains
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These niggaz is MC Brains
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Bein nice, rappers is far from bein nice
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I'm on the rooftop recordin, and niggaz is bein sniped
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It's like
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[Chorus - w/ ad libs]
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[Outro - DJ On Point - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
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Shout to the whole BSC (whole BSC)
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Shout to my nigga Dru Cartier
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SlimeBugz, DJ Sunkiss
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The Don (The Don), Dre Bless (Dre Bless)
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DJ Baby Dru (DJ Baby Dru)
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My nigga Freeze
Jill Scott - Family Reunion
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