Luyện nghe bài hát Truth Or Truth

I'm stressed out so much I'm like, "Why it?"
Am I for asking myself
"Would you count money or count blessings?"
Now that's a wild
Fame my life upside down
I guess it was meant to be like 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 disagree I you bleed hypocrisy!
And this will be the realest shit I ever
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've involved with
Thank for making my wife a crazier bitch than y'all bitches
Y'all might've me, but y'all win
And this will be the realest shit I ever
Now let's talk about the BET
When went to the podium for the win
And everyone 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'
This culture is so cultivatin'!
Where the do I fit in?
And this will be the realest I ever wrote
I so much to this game I feel sorrow
I answer more questions the 40 and Game squabble
I answer questions that I ask myself
"Are you a father?", the answer's, "Well
Fuck this! Royce got a tomorrow"
I ain't spell out the offers
If being 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 tell you
When was the last time you copped shit
it actually came out of your pocket?
Answer that! If I got to answer from you
You got to answer from me!
I'm fucking my whole life up for you, answer question:
"What the fuck are you doing for me?", that!
Still I my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a drunk nigga
That's just up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing up shit but my hands
And this is just me up
Courtney Artesia, and Vish, please support me I need ya
But in reality an artist is supposed to be by easels
But in the meanwhile, I'm just by evil
[Verse 2: Joe
I'm no longer fuckin'
I mean I this shit on "Cut You Loose"
How long am I supposed to stick around for fuckin' abuse?
Every I go to leave, I figure "fuck is the use?"
I endure it for the true fans that covet new
Or is that 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 know a nigga treasure
Nigga thought that as a man, you must be me
And I'm to feel like my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I don't owe shit
Same Joe I am is the same Joe y'all get
Y'all will interrupt a nigga 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 me on actions then I'll take that L every time
If you "Joe Budden is a corny mah'fucker"
Cause all it mean if I'm a mah'fucker
Is the greatest rapper just a corny mah'fucker
My bad, I'm not as as you
But all this time I was being me, not you
I get behind that mic, let all my demons
Without knowing about the people that I'm speaking to
Add that to me not a reason to
And that a lot in a room full of silence, listen...
At 21 I had a drug
At 31 still is a problem
But the thing about that pill is it made real
And I I needed to see
Funny thing about it all, I ain't what I saw
Now the Lord's voice is in my head
"You'll be soon for questioning me"
lesson for me
Far than 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 lives change
But it, that day had to come
Who ever knew that I have a son?
I coulda guessed it, I was fuckin' like a
But I never saw him handle like his dad did
Never me and Ronnie would talk again
Fuck a rhyme, I'm just happy that we again
Who knew that the second I you
You would get ill, be in the hospital
The thought of you is what fucks with me
I'm to death of getting full custody
Nigga, I look in the disgustedly
So how am I supposed to feel the day that he up to me?
I said you were the worst baby-mother
I had ex-girl confused baby-mother
And there lies my problem our Creator
All the times I wanted her ass dead, you wouldn't take her
Don't do it now, I her
Understand, it get no realer
See how I go to bed with thoughts of a killer
But show y'all my girl through these Instagram filters
Look at her, look at me
if y'all judging, y'all would throw the book at me
Speakin' of shorty, nah, do that in private
It might be a little soon for me to let her how I get
Shit, and now we back at one
Real quick, let me get to my son
a nigga was like
He said "Dad, I'm weird but I don't a problem with that"
And I was I laughed, and I was like
"Well, 1, why do you think you're weird
And number 2, why don't you have a problem 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 with it because that's me
And whoever don't like it, they have to be around me
I'm with 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 could die 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 all he need to know

Royce, up
Last we cried tears of joy
This they were still there
handicap without the wheelchair
That's we are, but fuck it...
We'll be the lamb for y'all niggas
it or love it...
Leave all of that, b, it...
3: Crooked I]
Yeah, man
I feel where my nigga was coming from, you know
my niggas, you know
Baby-mom was on WorldStar and
You know, 'bout I don't take care of my junior
Me and my nigga though
Yo, my little rap
I just let it be, you know, cause people get their feelings hurt over other
So I just let it go, you know, I ain't no rebuttal
But uh when you grew up 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 ghetto was real
Dumper in the waist in case I had to to kill
Rocking dumb cause I had was stupid skill
Eastsiders we cypher a bus bitch
Some sippin toca vodka, others had the blunt
A lot of them niggas died, sweatshirt drenched
Others went to jail, hit a lick and left thumbprints
Long beach I salute ya
Even though you you I sold out you not saluting mine
I dont around much, Im on musics time
Lost and found I when Im broke I lose my mind
So I hustle like Im on a strike
a doubt when I cuff a mic
I leave a body like the shottys out
Im from a group called slaughter
Rap better than everybody
Now they think Im in the and stuntin
But Im like an orgasm man, I from nothing
Some of you from the burbs but you you wasnt
So you struttin, with a cain you frontin
all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
I was born poor in a ditch, Im tryna climb up out it
avoid a life of crime Im bout it
Some say Ill be fine it
Death around the corner, prison breathing down my
Chasing paper til a nigga wheezing out of
IRS wanna fuck me, I ain't even debt
Said they Buck me
, tryna squeeze me checks
Yeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta
Dont talk to dominics unless you pay ya mommas
With marijuana sent outta town, them spent
My own fam wanna grab the steel and me
But I got the nuts to an army
to Killa army, man all them killers adore me
BET red carpet, the was on me
To put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldnt feel
Serena walking at the Olympics
Im still
Still me, til my is blown
So secrets I only told to a glass of patron
Half of my fathers family died of cancer
He called me sick, I didnt answer the
How does it feel to know your son doesnt care
Cause you wasnt there, life fair
I look at steps in the direction, another stare
I swear, just the muthafucking night dawg
niggas, 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 brothers 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 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 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 he could be in there but still
Cheering for his
My youngest son got nerve issues, he cry to me
Im looking at him its not you fault
You was conceived when daddy was a slave to his everyday anxiety
I at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to fire me
I wasnt fit to lift boxes I
Dont put me in that box when I
My life too muthafucking fly for me
Wasnt too fly for me
the lobby huffing and puffing running from robbery
To Crooked I, Da 59, Joe Budden,
homie from the Mob and me carving artistry
Celebrating poverty
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 ain't have yellow cheese in a box
Last night I tears of joy
But the other night I cried my boy
No longer I cant hear his voice
I guess they playing dealers choice
Popped a pill with Joe Im sippin clear Royce
light a cigar nigga
My little homie hit the pen
Went in a adult and coming out a senior citizen
And crackers just denied me
Fuck I cant even sneak a visit in
I ain't hustlin no more if yall
niggas only 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 give a fuck about a rap
I just left my condo, hopped up in my car Im on my way to an actress
I dont yall to remind me bout my pen and pad gift
ad-libs subtract wack spit
Multiply my visits to Chase divide mad chips among 3 other
Nah nigga ain't no rap clique
This is a muthafucking
I want Range Rover
I got a hangover celebrating the fact my mother became sober
My uncle fading from that though
Found out he blown a couple weeks ago
My aunt negative but its the same result
Cuz she gon die on the day he stop breathing 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 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
at me with indirects, I ain't gon write a song about you
Imma you in your neck
And write a song about how I just beat you half to death
Dont play with my niggas
Im just a grown ass man tryna feed my through the talent God gave me
I dont care if you hate me
But dont fuck with my
Anything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how would that be
House
YAOWA!