Текст песни Family Reunion - Joe Budden

It's that time again
It's been too long
It's family reunion
Mic check, mic check

We got school yard to check (one two, one two)
You know, let's talk talk
Let's go
The wolf is out, nigga
Get them, boy

Ain't nobody trying to rap or play me
I'll be at they crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV
Black gon' pay me, still get the smack off Baisley
'Cause I'm touching more diesel than Shaq old lady

Boy you did it, I done it, I get it, I punish
The shit that I come with'll seperate a rib from your stomach
I'm the boss, when I spit it, you love it
Matter fact, I'm a Viking

I need a whole village to plumage
Yeah, the nigga is here, the city is scared
You got the throne
Then I think I need to sit in your chair

We could really get physical here
And the sky's the limit nigga, I put your whole clique in the air
Baby, so quit playing, 'fore the clips spray 'em
And have his ass M.I.A. like Nick Saban
His whole shit caved in, my whole clique cavemen

Hard-bodied nigga, my whole shit pavement
You can't spit if you dead in the ground
In the woods, where your head'll be found
And it's good that you getting it now, in the precinct confessing it now
I can't fuck with the rest of you clowns, faggot

High in the silence before the storm
Lincoln Park, the Audubon
Slang rock, on the same block that the water on
I be more than gone, run and get your order form
Next time I record a song, gon' put my daughter on
'Cause she realer than most niggas

I tote triggers for you broke niggas and gold diggers with no fingers
That why I palm the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm Condoleezza
Better con the preacher, you trying to get on a feature
Better get your casket, bastard, I'm gon' eat ya

We ain't in the same weight class
Your fake-ass couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads
I'm way past anything that you ever did
I'm better kid and we never sweat a bid
It's easy to get a cig

In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I bring pain
I sling 'caine off the wing like I'm King James
Y'all doubting who
When I spit the whole lead, they be calling Code Red like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get your back blown
'Cause your gimmicks out of minutes like a TracFone

Get back homes, I'm back on my shit
I don't mingle, I'm like Pringles stacking my chips
Clapping my fifth, you the test me type
Coming out with a blade to get Wesley sniped
So the cops could arrest me, right
It's not happening

You ain't ever gonna get on, so stop rapping
H20 coming this summer, so stop asking
All heat like Wall Street, ya stock crashing
Now the Feds want to read his rights
Lord have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got passion
I'm Black and all my niggas getting this 'feti
We in the Chevy and ready to pop tags, oh

Do whatever you trying to do, little niggas, I already done, done
And since you want to live by it, little nigga, then die by the gun, gun
See, whatever you trying to do, little nigga, I've already done, done
So how the fuck you gon' win, little nigga? I've already won, won

Hey yo, money is the root of all evil, I thought
But when I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts
That's when the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short
With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has caught
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve Smith and Wesson ya

The shoes pop up like Instant Messenger
You've got mail, no, nigga you got shells
And my Mac, you can't use for iChat
I've got that, confused that with live flat
And my gat is on leg like thigh tat

I that nigga, who you dudes?
Some broke niggas who tryin' to get some Youtube views
So 'less you want a point blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, this is Lawyer Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties seen me in that four-door ridey
Double pipes like a sawed off shotty, nigga

I flow sickly, riding, bumping old Biggie
Roll with me or lose weight, Nicole Richie
Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond fame
I treat a nigga's face like the old Simon game

Figured out why men try us
'Cause we OD on rims and thin tires, for that we Len Bias
All it takes is a punch
He ain't brave, he a punk
I'll put his family in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch

How y'all feel yourselves?
Should kill yourselves, us cowboys don't need you, you bill parcells
And you ain't got to empty your pockets when the K's out
Whatever you holding is mine, we my PayPal

Don't get how this guy is a threat
I make his life inept for a pie to the neck
Ride or die, I do both nigga, ride to the death
A cappella the whole left side of his chest

Not retiring, still got that pension pending
Trying to pop the hood and see the engine missing
Double-barreled shotgun, have your men get missing
She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint condition

Oh the cig in the car, you dissin' moi
Take the ratchet, go home and just Chris Benoit
Tell a bird like it is, you promise the broad
I one-line her, you Isiah Thomas, the broad

I could send a clique cartridge at a nemesis target
And catch a ROR on some Jena Six charges
Nah, I'll put this thing away
I don't even need a whole hairdo to clip em, all it take is one finger wave

Been in the bing for days, show you how I'm real
Come home to the truck with the Optimus Prime grill
Handed out crack, got the scene poppin' off
They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is nodding off

All real, tell me how you a thug and you Superman
I just seen you in the club doing the Superman
A bunch of clowns' homes
All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown stone
Major paper, cake by the layers
If these dudes is live, I'm the Create-A-Player

They callin 'em Kings when they so, so hot
Something's wrong with that picture, must be Photoshop
I don't promote violence, but when sparkin the flame, blame
Arms start waving like the Carlton Banks dance

When them tools go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around with your dog and get Kujo shot
These MC's is lame, I try to be a MC with brains
These niggas is MC Brains
Being nice, rappers is far from being nice
I'm on the rooftop recording, niggas is being sniped, it's like

Do whatever you trying to do, little niggas, I already done, done
And since you want to live by it, little nigga, then die by the gun, gun
See, whatever you trying to do, little nigga, I've already done, done
So how the fuck you gon' win, little nigga? I've already won, won

It's a rat, no more, go back to your regular schedule, girlfriend
It's the public service that's next...