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 question
Fame turned my upside down
I it was meant to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac
And that ain't a diss, this way more to me than a diss
is God to me
Nas is God to me!
Eminem is B.I.G. and Pac to me
And if you disagree I you bleed hypocrisy!
And this will be the realest shit I wrote
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been involved
Thank for making my wife a crazier bitch than y'all bitches
Y'all lost me, but y'all win
And this will be the realest I ever wrote
Now let's talk the BET Awards
When went to the podium for the win
And everyone in the same category as him but me and Em
He said motivated him
And normally would be ammo to hate on him
But ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin'
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 this game I feel
I answer more questions about the 40 and Game
I answer questions that I ask myself
"Are you a father?", the answer's, "Well
Fuck this! Royce got a tomorrow"
I ain't gotta out the offers
If being famous means speaking to in offices
Over being for your sons and daughters...
I'm off this...
I know the last couple of kinda fell out of the pocket
But I don't a fuck!
Let me you this:
When was the time you copped some shit
Where it actually out of your pocket?
Answer that! If I got to questions from you
You got to questions from me!
I'm fucking my whole life up for you, this question:
"What the fuck are you for me?", answer that!
Still I love my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a 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, and Vish, please support me I need ya
But in reality an artist is supposed to be supported by
But in the meanwhile, I'm supported by evil
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 abuse?
time I go to leave, I figure "fuck is the use?"
I endure it for the fans that covet that new
Or is that just another excuse?
Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won't 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 starting to like my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I don't owe shit
Joe I am today is the same Joe y'all get
Y'all will interrupt a nigga he at his place of worship
And think that came with your 20 dollar purchase
You bought the music, not the nigga made it
But let me touch up on nigga that made it
If you're judging me on actions then take that L every time
If you "Joe Budden is a corny mah'fucker"
Cause all it if I'm a corny mah'fucker
Is the rapper ever's just a corny mah'fucker
My bad, I'm not as as you
But all time I was being me, not being you
I get that mic, let all my demons through
Without knowing shit about the people I'm speaking to
Add that to me not seeing a to
And that says a lot in a full of silence, listen...
At 21 I had a problem
At 31 still drugs is a
But the thing about that is it made everything real
And I I needed to see
Funny thing it all, I ain't like what I saw
Now the Lord's voice is in my like
"You'll be DEAD soon for me"
lesson for me
Far greater than I profess it to be
Cause if to me, I'd put our eyes in our brains
We'd over-think we see and our whole lives would change
But it, that day had to come
Who ever knew that I have a son?
I coulda guessed it, I was fuckin' a rabbit
But I never saw him handle like his dad did
Never me and Ronnie would talk again
Fuck a rhyme, I'm just that we talk again
Who that the second I acknowledged you
You get terminally ill, be in the hospital
The thought of you leaving is fucks with me
I'm to death of getting full custody
Nigga, I look in the mirror
So how am I supposed to feel the day he looks up to me?
I said you were the worst baby-mother
I had ex-girl with baby-mother
And there my problem with our Creator
All the I wanted her black ass dead, you wouldn't take her
Don't do it now, I her
Understand, it don't get no
See how I go to bed thoughts of a damn killer
But rather show y'all my girl through these filters
at her, don't look at me
Cause if y'all judging, y'all would the book at me
of shorty, nah, I'll do that in private
It might be a soon for me to let her know how I get
Shit, and now we back at one
Real quick, let me get to my son
When a nigga was
He said "Dad, I'm but I don't have a problem with that"
And I was I laughed, and I was like
"Well, number 1, why do you you're weird
And number 2, why don't you have a with that?"
And he looked me in my eyes and he was
"Well, I say I'm weird, number 1, because I I'm weird
And I don't have a problem with it because me
And whoever don't like it, they don't have to be me
I'm with me and who I am"
And right there, was cold
In my head I "That was bold"
Illest shit about it all, said at 10 years-old
So I die right now
I could die right now and feel like he got the important part of Joe
Or... better that...
I could die right now and feel like he know all he need to

Royce, up
Last we cried tears of joy
morning they were still there
What's handicap without the
That's what we are, but it...
We'll be the lamb for y'all niggas
it or love it...
Leave all of that, b, it...
[Verse 3: I]
Yeah, man
I kinda where my nigga was coming from, you know
Both my niggas, you
Baby-mom was on and shit
You know, talkin' I don't take care of my junior
Me and my straight though
Yo, my nigga rap
I just let it be, you know, cause get their feelings hurt over other shit
So I let it go, you know, I ain't have no rebuttal
But uh when you grew up up
Nobody's perfect, you know, but I'm for this
rap shit, man yeah
Eastside Long Beach: avenue and Hill
Crooked was a youngster my ghetto attitude was
Dumper in the in case I had to shoot to kill
Rocking dumb mics I had was stupid skill
Eastsiders we about a bus bitch
sippin toca vodka, others had the blunt pitched
A lot of them died, sweatshirt blood drenched
Others went to jail, they hit a and left thumbprints
Long beach I salute ya
Even though you think you I out you not saluting mine
I dont come much, Im on musics time
Lost and found I found when Im I lose my mind
So I hustle like Im on a hunger
a doubt when I cuff a mic
I leave a body like the shottys out
Cause Im from a called slaughter
Rap than everybody house
Now think Im in the game and stuntin
But Im like an orgasm man, I from nothing
Some of you the burbs but you claim you wasnt
So lame you struttin, a cain you frontin
all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
I was poor in a ditch, Im rhyming tryna climb up out it
Tryna avoid a life of Im bout it
Some say Ill be without it
Death around the corner, prison breathing down my
paper til a nigga wheezing out of breath
IRS fuck me, I ain't even outta debt
Said Young Buck me
, tryna squeeze me outta
Yeah, them fools tryna me outta checks
Dont talk to dominics you pay ya mommas rent
With marijuana sent outta town, them dollars
My own fam wanna grab the steel and me
But I got the to kill an army
Word to Killa army, man all them adore me
BET red carpet, the was on me
To put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldnt good
Serena crip walking at the
Im still
Still me, til my is blown
So many secrets I only told to a glass of
Half of my fathers family died of cancer
He called me sick, I didnt the phone
How does it feel to know that son doesnt care
Cause you wasnt there, life fair
I look at steps in the direction, another stare
I swear, the other muthafucking night dawg
Like niggas, rolled in front of my studio on my kids life
Nahmean, I ran through the fucking studio to my grabbed that 3.57 thang 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, this is the life I for real dawg
This ain't no muthafuckin rap
Just the other night I coulda a nigga man
Nahmean, I wouldnt be here rapping about this
about it man
[Verse 4: Ortiz]
My left me
, father exist
Baby moms me,
my got a cyst
My older son football and the little nigga hands is mean
But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he could be in there but
Cheering for his
My youngest son got issues, sometimes he cry to me
Im looking at him its not you fault
You was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his anxiety
I worked at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to me
I wasnt fit to boxes I quit
Dont put me in box when I spit
My life too muthafucking fly for me
Wasnt too fly for me
From the lobby huffing and running from robbery
To Crooked I, Da 59, Joe Budden,
homie the Goodie Mob and me carving artistry
escaping poverty
Ashy knees and no
Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, than that
Liver works and government me my yellow cheese in a box
Yall have that yellow cheese in a box
Last night I cried of joy
But the other night I cried my boy
No longer here I cant hear his
I upstairs they playing dealers choice
Popped a pill with Joe Im sippin clear Royce
Crook light a nigga
My homie just hit the pen
in a young adult and coming out a senior citizen
And crackers just denied me
Fuck dawg I cant even a visit in
I hustlin no more if yall listening
Yall niggas get the music man
Yall don't know what be going on a nigga day to day
I shit I ain't complaining or nothing
Like a nigga on his own two and hold it down
But its realer than you think
You think I a fuck about a rap list
I left my condo, hopped up in my car Im on my way to fuck an actress
I dont yall to remind me bout my pen and pad gift
ad-libs subtract your wack
Multiply my to Chase divide mad chips among 3 other niggas
Nah this ain't no rap clique
is a muthafucking takeover
I want Range Rover
I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother became
My uncle fading from needle though
Found out he fully a couple weeks ago
My aunt tested negative but its the result
Cuz she gon die on the same day he breathing yo
To know me ain't to me
Nah, to know me is to me
Cause you got to like me but respect that I ain't phony
Not a nominee for Tonys or Oscars for my uh
you see is what you get
Hope you getting what you see what you seeing is a threat
Come at me with indirects, I gon write a song about you
Imma you in your neck
And then write a song about how I just beat you half to
play with my little niggas
Im just a grown ass man tryna my family through the talent God gave me
Honestly I care if you hate me
But dont with my money
else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be
House
YAOWA!