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 rather count money or blessings?"
Now a wild question
Fame my life upside down
I guess it was meant to be passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac
And that ain't a diss, this way more to me 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 ever
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been with
Thank y'all for making my wife a crazier bitch 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 to the podium for the win
And mentioned in the same category as him but me and Em
He said they him
And that would be ammo to hate on him
But ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin'
This 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
Than I answer questions 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 being famous means to people in offices
Over there for your sons and daughters...
I'm off this...
I know the last couple of lines kinda fell out of the
But I don't a fuck!
Let me tell you
was the last time you copped some shit
Where it came 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, answer this
"What the are you doing for me?", answer that!
Still I love my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a drunk
That's just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing up but my hands
And this is me growing up
Courtney Artesia, Kino and Vish, please me I need ya
But in reality an is supposed to be supported by easels
But in the meanwhile, I'm just by evil
2: Joe Budden]
I'm no longer amused
I mean I addressed this on "Cut You Loose"
How long am I to stick around for this fuckin' abuse?
Every time I go to leave, I "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 I crave it, I won't 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 starting to feel my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I owe y'all shit
Same Joe I am is the same Joe y'all get
Y'all interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worship
And think that came along your 20 dollar purchase
You bought the music, not the nigga that it
But let me touch up on that nigga made it
If judging me on actions then I'll take 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 greatest rapper ever's just a mah'fucker
My bad, I'm not as as you
But all this time I was being me, not you
I get that mic, let all my demons through
knowing shit about the people that I'm speaking 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 problem
At 31 still is a problem
But the thing about that is it made everything real
And I I needed to see
Funny thing about it all, I like what I saw
Now the Lord's voice is in my like
"You'll be DEAD for questioning 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 lives would change
But it, that day had to come
Who ever knew I would have a son?
I coulda it, I was fuckin' like a rabbit
But I never saw him handle like his dad did
Never knew me and would talk again
Fuck a rhyme, I'm happy that we talk again
Who that the second I acknowledged you
You would get ill, be in the hospital
The thought of you is what fucks with me
I'm scared to death of getting full
Nigga, I look in the disgustedly
So how am I supposed to the day that he looks up to me?
I always said you were the baby-mother
I had ex-girl confused with
And there my problem with our Creator
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 thoughts of a damn
But rather show my girl through these Instagram filters
Look at her, look at me
Cause if y'all judging, would throw the book at me
Speakin' of shorty, nah, I'll do in private
It be a little soon for me to let her know how I get
Shit, and now we right at one
Real quick, let me get to my son
a nigga was like
He said "Dad, I'm weird but I don't have a with that"
And I was like I laughed, and I was
"Well, number 1, why do you think weird
And number 2, why don't you a problem with that?"
And he looked me in my and he was like
"Well, I say I'm weird, number 1, because I I'm weird
And I don't have a problem with it that's me
And whoever don't like it, they have to be around me
I'm comfortable 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 now and feel like he got the most important part of Joe
Or... than that...
I die right now and feel like he know all he need to know

Royce, up
Last we cried tears of joy
morning they were still there
What's without the wheelchair
That's what we are, but it...
We'll be the sacrificial for y'all niggas
it or love it...
Leave all of that, b, it...
3: Crooked I]
Yeah, man
I kinda where my nigga was coming from, you know
Both my niggas, you
was on WorldStar 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 people get their feelings hurt other shit
So I just let it go, you know, I have no rebuttal
But uh when you up fucked up
Nobody's perfect, you know, but I'm for this
This rap shit, man
Eastside Long Beach: avenue and Hill
Crooked was a youngster my attitude was real
in the waist in case I had to shoot to kill
Rocking dumb mics I had was stupid skill
Eastsiders we cypher about a bus
Some sippin toca vodka, others had the blunt
A lot of them died, sweatshirt blood drenched
Others to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprints
Long beach I ya grind
Even though you think you I out you not saluting mine
I dont come around much, Im on time
Lost and found I found Im broke I lose my mind
So I hustle like Im on a hunger
Without a when I cuff a mic
I leave a body count like the out
Cause Im a group called slaughter
Rap better than everybody
Now they Im in the game and stuntin
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 you frontin
all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
I was born poor in a ditch, Im rhyming climb up out it
avoid a life of crime Im bout it
Some say Ill be fine it
Death around the corner, breathing down my neck
paper til a nigga wheezing out of breath
IRS wanna fuck me, I ain't even debt
Said they Buck me
, tryna squeeze me checks
Yeah, them fools tryna me outta checks
Dont talk to dominics unless you pay ya rent
With sent outta town, them dollars spent
My own fam wanna 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 in my flesh and blood wouldnt feel good
Serena crip walking at the
Im still
Still me, til my is blown
So many secrets I told to a glass of patron
Half of my fathers family of cancer alone
He called me sick, I answer the phone
How does it feel to know that son doesnt care
Cause you wasnt there, wasnt fair
I look at steps in the wrong direction, stare
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 brothers told me I needed to
Nahmean, this is what I do man, this is the life I live for dawg
This ain't no muthafuckin rap
Just the other night I killed a nigga man
Nahmean, I wouldnt be here rapping about shit
about it man
[Verse 4: Ortiz]
My left me
, father dont
moms stress 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 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 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 fit to lift boxes I quit
put me in that box when I spit
My life too muthafucking fly for me
Wasnt too fly for me
From the lobby and puffing running from robbery
To Crooked I, Da 59, Joe Budden,
from the Goodie Mob and me carving artistry
Celebrating escaping
knees and no socks
Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other that
Liver and government sent me my yellow cheese in a box
Yall have that yellow cheese in a box
night I cried tears of joy
But the other I cried tears my boy
No longer I cant hear his voice
I guess upstairs they playing choice
Popped a pill with Joe Im sippin clear Royce
Crook a cigar nigga
My homie just hit the pen
Went in a young and coming out a senior citizen
And crackers just denied me
Fuck dawg I cant sneak a visit in
I ain't hustlin no more if yall
Yall niggas only get the man
Yall don't know what be going on with a day to day
I mean shit I ain't complaining or
Like a nigga on his own two and hold it down
But its realer than you think
You think I give a fuck about a rap
I left my condo, hopped up in my car Im on my way to fuck an actress
I dont need yall to remind me bout my pen and pad
subtract your wack spit
Multiply my visits to Chase divide mad chips 3 other niggas
Nah nigga ain't no rap clique
This is a takeover
I want another Range
I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother became
My uncle fading from that though
Found out he fully blown a weeks ago
My tested negative but its the same result
Cuz she gon die on the same day he breathing yo
To know me to love me
Nah, to me is to know me
Cause you ain't got to like me but respect that I phony
Not a nominee for Tonys or Oscars for my uh
What you see is you get
Hope you what you see cause what you seeing is a threat
Come at me with indirects, I ain't gon a song about you
Imma knee you in neck
And then write a song about how I just beat you half to
Dont with my little niggas
Im just a ass man tryna feed my family through the talent God gave me
Honestly I dont if you hate me
But fuck with my money
Anything else I say be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be
House
YAOWA!