Luyện nghe bài hát Truth Or Truth

I'm out so much I'm like, "Why stress it?"
Am I selfish for asking
"Would you rather money or count blessings?"
Now that's a wild
Fame turned my life upside
I guess it was to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac
And ain't a diss, this way more to me than a diss track
is God to me
Nas is God to me!
Eminem is B.I.G. and Pac to me
And if you I hope you bleed hypocrisy!
And this will be the realest shit I wrote
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been involved
Thank y'all for making my wife a crazier bitch y'all bitches
Y'all lost me, but y'all win
And this will be the realest I ever wrote
Now talk about the BET Awards
When Kanye went to the for the win
And mentioned in the same category as him but me and Em
He said they him
And normally that be ammo to hate on him
But that ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo'
new-wave culture is so cultivatin'!
Where the do I fit in?
And this be the realest shit I ever wrote
I succumb so much to game I feel sorrow
I more questions about the 40 and Game squabble
I answer questions that I ask myself
"Are you a father?", the answer's, "Well
this! Royce got a game tomorrow"
I ain't spell out the offers
If famous means speaking to people in offices
Over being for your sons and daughters...
I'm off this...
I know the last of lines kinda fell out of the pocket
But I give a fuck!
Let me you this:
When was the last time you copped shit
Where it actually came out of your
Answer that! If I got to answer questions you
You got to answer questions me!
I'm my whole life up for you, answer this question:
"What the fuck are you for me?", answer that!
Still I my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a drunk nigga
That's just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I throwing up shit but my hands
And is just me growing up
Courtney Artesia, Kino and Vish, please support me I ya
But in reality an is supposed to be supported by easels
But in the meanwhile, I'm just supported by
2: Joe Budden]
I'm no fuckin' amused
I mean I addressed this on "Cut You Loose"
How long am I supposed to stick around for this fuckin'
time I go to leave, I figure "fuck is the use?"
I endure it for the true fans covet that new
Or is just another fuckin' excuse?
Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I mention it, I'll save it
If you know me than you a nigga treasure anonymity
Nigga thought that as a man, you be kiddin' me
And I'm to feel like my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I owe y'all shit
Joe I am today is the same Joe y'all get
Y'all will interrupt a nigga while he at his of worship
And think that came along with 20 dollar purchase
You bought the music, not the that made it
But let me touch up on that nigga made it
If you're judging me on actions then I'll take L every time
If you conclude "Joe Budden is a mah'fucker"
Cause all it if I'm a corny mah'fucker
Is the greatest rapper ever's just a corny
My bad, I'm not as as you
But all time I was being me, not being you
I get behind that mic, let all my through
Without knowing about the people that I'm speaking to
Add that to me not seeing a to
And that a lot in a room full of silence, listen...
At 21 I had a problem
At 31 drugs is a problem
But the thing about pill is it made everything real
And I I needed to see
Funny thing about it all, I ain't what I saw
Now the Lord's is in my head like
"You'll be DEAD soon for me"
Another for me
Far greater whatever I profess it to be
Cause if left to me, I'd put our in our brains
We'd over-think what we see and our whole would change
But fuck it, day had to come
Who ever knew that I would have a
I guessed it, I was fuckin' like a rabbit
But I never saw him handle like his dad did
Never knew me and Ronnie would again
Fuck a rhyme, I'm happy that we talk again
Who knew that the second I you
You would get terminally ill, be in the
The thought of you is what fucks with me
I'm scared to death of full custody
Nigga, I look in the mirror
So how am I supposed to feel the day he looks up to me?
I always said you were the worst
I had ex-girl confused with
And there lies my problem with our
All the times I wanted her ass dead, you wouldn't take her
do it now, I need her
Understand, it get no realer
See how I go to bed with of a damn killer
But show y'all my girl through these Instagram filters
Look at her, look at me
Cause if judging, y'all would throw the book at me
Speakin' of shorty, nah, do that in private
It be a little soon for me to let her know how I get
Shit, and now we back at one
quick, let me get back to my son
When a nigga was
He said "Dad, I'm weird but I don't have a with that"
And I was like I laughed, and I was
"Well, 1, why do you think you're weird
And 2, why don't you have a problem with that?"
And he looked me in my eyes and he was
"Well, I say I'm weird, 1, because I know I'm weird
And I don't have a problem with it because me
And whoever don't like it, they have to be around me
I'm comfortable me and who I am"
And right there, was cold
In my I thought "That was bold"
Illest shit about it all, that at 10 years-old
So I die right now
I could die now and feel like he got the most important part of Joe
Or... better that...
I die right now and feel like he know all he need to know

Royce, up
Last night we tears of joy
This morning they were there
What's handicap the wheelchair
That's we are, but fuck it...
We'll be the sacrificial for y'all niggas
it or love it...
Leave all of that, b, it...
[Verse 3: I]
Yeah, man
I kinda feel where my nigga was from, you know
my niggas, you know
Baby-mom was on and shit
You know, talkin' 'bout I don't care of my junior
Me and my straight though
Yo, my nigga rap
I just let it be, you know, cause people get their feelings hurt over other
So I let it go, you know, I ain't have no rebuttal
But uh when you grew up up
perfect, you know, but I'm perfect for this
This rap shit, man
Eastside Long Beach: Atlantic and Hill
Crooked was a my ghetto attitude was real
Dumper in the waist in I had to shoot to kill
Rocking mics cause I had was stupid skill
Eastsiders we cypher a bus bitch
Some sippin toca vodka, others had the blunt
A lot of niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenched
Others went to jail, they hit a lick and left
beach I salute ya grind
Even though you think you I sold out you not mine
I dont come around much, Im on time
Lost and found I when Im broke I lose my mind
So I like Im on a hunger strike
a doubt when I cuff a mic
I leave a body count like the out
Cause Im from a group called
Rap better than house
Now they think Im in the game and
But Im an orgasm man, I came from nothing
Some of you from the but you claim you wasnt
So lame you struttin, with a cain you
Fuck all that, if I was rich I would rhyme about it
I was born poor in a ditch, Im tryna climb up out it
Tryna avoid a life of crime Im it
Some say Ill be without it
Death around the corner, breathing down my neck
Chasing til a nigga wheezing out of breath
IRS fuck me, I ain't even outta debt
Said Young Buck me
, tryna me outta checks
Yeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta
Dont talk to dominics you pay ya mommas rent
With marijuana sent outta town, dollars spent
My own fam grab the steel and harm me
But I got the nuts to kill an
Word to Killa army, man all them killers me
BET red carpet, the was on me
To put a slug in my and blood wouldnt feel good
Serena walking at the Olympics
Im hood
Still me, til my candle is
So many I only told to a glass of patron
Half of my fathers family died of alone
He me sick, I didnt answer the phone
How does it feel to that your son doesnt care
Cause you wasnt there, life fair
I look at steps in the wrong direction, another
I swear, just the other muthafucking night
Like niggas, niggas in front of my studio on my kids life
Nahmean, I ran through the fucking studio to my office grabbed that 3.57 man
out waving, Im bout to bust, the police pass by
My little told me I needed to chill
Nahmean, this is what I do man, is the life I live for real dawg
This ain't no muthafuckin rap
the other night I coulda killed a nigga man
Nahmean, I wouldnt be here rapping about this
about it man
[Verse 4: Ortiz]
My left me
, father dont
Baby moms me,
my momma got a
My older son love football and the nigga hands is mean
But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he be in there but still
Cheering for his
My son got nerve issues, sometimes he cry to me
Im at him like its not you fault
You was when daddy was such a slave to his everyday anxiety
I worked at UPS for a week and my boss ain't to fire me
I wasnt fit to boxes I quit
Dont put me in that box I spit
My wasnt too muthafucking fly for me
Wasnt too fly for me
From the lobby huffing and puffing running robbery
To I, Royce Da 59, Joe Budden,
homie from the Goodie Mob and me carving
Celebrating poverty
Ashy knees and no
Chinese outta but that was on the first, other than that
Liver works and government sent me my cheese in a box
Yall ain't that yellow cheese in a box
Last night I cried of joy
But the other night I tears my boy
No longer I cant hear his voice
I upstairs they playing dealers choice
Popped a pill with Joe Im clear with Royce
Crook light a cigar
My little homie hit the pen
Went in a young adult and coming out a senior
And them crackers denied me
Fuck dawg I cant even sneak a in
I ain't hustlin no if yall listening
Yall only get the music man
Yall don't know what be going on with a day to day
I mean shit I complaining or nothing
Like a nigga stand on his own two and hold it
But its realer than you think
You I give a fuck about a rap list
I just my condo, hopped up in my car Im on my way to fuck an actress
I dont need yall to remind me my pen and pad gift
ad-libs subtract wack spit
Multiply my visits to Chase divide mad chips among 3 other
Nah this ain't no rap clique
is a muthafucking takeover
I want another Rover
I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother became
My uncle fading from that needle
Found out he fully blown a weeks ago
My aunt negative but its the same result
Cuz she gon die on the same day he breathing yo
To know me ain't to me
Nah, to me is to know me
Cause you got to like me but respect that I ain't phony
Not a nominee for Tonys or Oscars for my uh
What you see is you get
Hope you getting what you see cause what you is a threat
Come at me with indirects, I ain't gon write a song you
Imma knee you in your
And write a song about how I just beat you half to death
Dont play with my little
Im just a grown ass man feed my family through the talent God gave me
Honestly I dont care if you me
But dont with my money
Anything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb that be
House
YAOWA!