Luyện nghe bài hát Truth Or Truth

I'm stressed out so I'm like, "Why stress it?"
Am I selfish for asking
"Would you count money or count blessings?"
Now a wild question
Fame turned my life upside
I guess it was meant to be like passing a Tic-Tac
And that 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 disagree I hope you hypocrisy!
And this will be the realest I ever wrote
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been with
Thank y'all for making my wife a crazier than y'all bitches
Y'all might've lost me, but win
And this will be the realest shit I ever
Now let's talk the BET Awards
When Kanye went to the for the win
And mentioned everyone in the same as him but me and Em
He they motivated him
And normally that would be to hate on him
But ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin'
This culture is so cultivatin'!
the fuck do I fit in?
And this will be the realest shit I ever
I succumb so much to game I feel sorrow
I answer more about the 40 and Game squabble
Than I answer that I ask myself
"Are you a father?", the answer's, "Well
Fuck this! got a game tomorrow"
I ain't spell out the offers
If being famous speaking to people in offices
Over being there for your 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 some shit
Where it actually came out of pocket?
Answer that! If I got to answer questions you
You got to answer questions me!
I'm fucking my whole up for you, answer this question:
"What the fuck are you doing for me?", that!
Still I love my fans, even though looking at me like I'm just a drunk nigga
That's throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing up shit but my hands
And this is just me up
Artesia, Kino and Vish, please support me I need ya
But in reality an is supposed to be supported by easels
But in the meanwhile, I'm just supported by
[Verse 2: Joe
I'm no fuckin' amused
I I addressed this shit on "Cut You Loose"
How long am I supposed to stick around for this fuckin'
Every time I go to leave, I "fuck is the use?"
I endure it for the true fans that that new
Or is that just another fuckin'
Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won't mention it, save it
If you know me you know a nigga treasure anonymity
Nigga thought as a man, you must be kiddin' me
And I'm to feel like my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I don't owe y'all
Same Joe I am today is the Joe y'all get
Y'all interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worship
And think that along with your 20 dollar purchase
You the music, not the nigga that made it
But let me touch up on that nigga made it
If you're judging me on actions then I'll that L every time
If you conclude "Joe 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 behind that mic, let all my through
Without knowing shit about the people that I'm to
Add that to me not a reason to
And that says a lot in a room of silence, listen...
At 21 I had a drug
At 31 drugs is a problem
But the thing that pill is it made everything real
And I I needed to see
Funny about it all, I ain't like what I saw
Now the Lord's is in my head like
"You'll be DEAD soon for me"
Another for me
Far than whatever I profess it to be
Cause if left to me, I'd put our eyes in our
We'd over-think what we see and our whole lives would
But it, that day had to come
Who ever knew that I would have a
I coulda guessed it, I was fuckin' like a
But I never saw him handle like his dad did
Never knew me and Ronnie would again
Fuck a rhyme, I'm just happy that we again
Who knew the second I acknowledged you
You would get ill, be in the hospital
The thought of you leaving is what fucks me
I'm scared to death of getting custody
Nigga, I in the mirror disgustedly
So how am I supposed to feel the day that he up to me?
I always you were the worst baby-mother
I had ex-girl confused with
And lies my problem with our Creator
All the times I wanted her black ass dead, you take her
do it now, I need her
Understand, it don't get no
See how I go to bed with thoughts of a damn
But rather show y'all my girl through Instagram filters
at her, don't look at me
Cause if y'all judging, would throw the book at me
Speakin' of shorty, nah, I'll do in private
It might be a little for me to let her know how I get
Shit, and now we right at one
Real quick, let me get to my son
When a nigga was
He "Dad, I'm weird 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 2, why don't you have a problem with that?"
And he me in my eyes and he was like
"Well, I say I'm weird, number 1, because I know I'm
And I don't have a with it because that's me
And don't like it, they don't have to be around me
I'm with me and who I am"
And there, that was cold
In my head I "That was bold"
shit about it all, said that at 10 years-old
So I could die now
I could die right now and feel like he got the important part of Joe
Or... than that...
I die right now and feel like he know all he need to know

Royce, up
night we cried tears of joy
This morning they were still
What's handicap without the
what we are, but fuck 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 feel where my was coming from, you know
Both my niggas, you
Baby-mom was on and shit
You know, talkin' 'bout I take care of my junior
Me and my nigga straight
Yo, my nigga rap
I just let it be, you know, cause get their feelings hurt over other shit
So I just let it go, you know, I ain't no rebuttal
But uh you grew up fucked up
Nobody's perfect, you know, but I'm for this
This rap shit, man
Eastside Long Beach: avenue and Hill
was a youngster my ghetto attitude was real
Dumper in the waist in I had to shoot to kill
Rocking mics cause I had was stupid skill
we cypher about a bus bitch
Some sippin vodka, others had the blunt pitched
A lot of niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenched
Others to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprints
Long beach I salute ya
Even though you think you I sold out you not saluting
I dont come much, Im on musics time
Lost and I found when Im broke I lose my mind
So I hustle like Im on a hunger
Without a doubt when I a mic
I leave a body count the shottys out
Cause Im a group called slaughter
Rap better everybody house
Now they think Im in the and stuntin
But Im an orgasm man, I came from nothing
of you from the burbs but you claim you wasnt
So lame you struttin, with a cain you
all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
I was born in a ditch, Im rhyming tryna climb up out it
Tryna a life of crime Im bout it
Some say Ill be without it
around the corner, prison breathing down my neck
Chasing paper til a wheezing out of breath
IRS wanna fuck me, I even outta debt
Said Young Buck me
, tryna squeeze me outta
Yeah, them tryna squeeze me outta checks
talk to dominics unless you pay ya mommas rent
With marijuana sent outta town, them spent
My own fam grab the steel and harm 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 walking at the Olympics
Im still
Still me, til my is blown
So many secrets I only told to a glass of
Half of my family died of cancer alone
He called me sick, I answer the phone
How does it feel to know that your son doesnt
you wasnt there, life wasnt fair
I look at steps in the direction, another stare
I swear, the other muthafucking night dawg
Like niggas, niggas rolled in front of my studio on my kids
Nahmean, I ran through the fucking studio to my office grabbed that 3.57 man
Came out waving, Im to bust, the police pass by
My little brothers told me I 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 be here rapping about this shit
Think it man
[Verse 4: Joell
My left me
, father dont
moms stress me,
my got a cyst
My older son love football and the little hands is mean
But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline he could be in there but still
for his team
My son got nerve issues, sometimes he cry to me
Im looking at him like its not you
You was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his everyday
I at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to fire me
I wasnt fit to lift I quit
Dont put me in that box when I
My life wasnt too fly for me
too muthafucking fly for me
From the lobby huffing and puffing from robbery
To Crooked I, Da 59, Joe Budden,
homie from the Goodie Mob and me carving
Celebrating escaping
Ashy knees and no
Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other that
works and government sent me my yellow cheese in a box
Yall ain't have that yellow in a box
night I cried tears of joy
But the other night I tears my boy
No here I cant hear his voice
I guess upstairs playing dealers choice
Popped a pill with Joe Im sippin with Royce
Crook light a nigga
My little just hit the pen
Went in a young adult and coming out a citizen
And them crackers just me
Fuck dawg I cant even sneak a in
I ain't hustlin no more if listening
Yall only get the music man
Yall don't know what be going on a nigga day to day
I mean shit I ain't or nothing
a nigga stand on his own two and hold it down
But its than you think nigga
You think I give a fuck a rap list
I left 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 your wack spit
Multiply my to Chase divide mad chips among 3 other niggas
Nah this ain't no rap clique
This is a muthafucking
I another Range Rover
I got such a hangover the fact my mother became sober
My uncle fading from needle though
out he fully blown a couple weeks ago
My aunt tested but its the same result
Cuz she gon die on the same day he stop yo
To know me ain't to me
Nah, to know me is to me
Cause you ain't got to like me but respect that I ain't
Not a for Tonys or Oscars for my uh balony
you see is what you get
Hope you getting what you see what you seeing is a threat
at me with indirects, I ain't gon write a song about you
Imma you in your neck
And then write a song about how I just you half to death
play with my little niggas
Im just a grown ass man tryna feed my through the talent God gave me
Honestly I dont care if you me
But dont with my money
Anything else I say be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be
House
YAOWA!