You Know What’ll Happen lyrics

by

Joe Budden


[Intro: [?]]
Squad up!
[?]
The flow of the century!

[Verse 1 : Cau2G$]
[?] roll up (what!) I'ma roll up (what!)
Keep dumpin' until I see you fold up (what!)
[?] hip-hop's MC murder device
Murder the studio, murder the track, murder the mic (murder the mic)
I could, yes, I can (yes, I can)
Murder a platinum artist and sadden a million fans (sh*t)
We can make it real like reality shows
If you a b*tch ass artist, I don't battle no ho's
Have n*ggas get that rapper, tie you up, [?]
Until you turn green like a Packer (and I ain't lyin')
Joe, Stack, and G's, reload that and squeeze
Start at ya head and end the clip at ya knees
If I ain't hard, tell me what the f*ck is
Go gun for gun, I'll show you what tough is
Ya money ain't right (right), I eat Oprah up
'Cause my stomach is on Ethiopia

[Chorus: [?]]
You know what'll happen once I c—c—catch 'em
Let 'em wear a bullet and see if the sh*t match 'em
You know what'll happen once I s—s—s—s—spot 'em
Run up and red dot 'em, yeah, n*gga, I got 'em
You know what'll happen once I c—c—catch 'em
Let 'em wear a bullet and see if the sh*t match 'em
You know what'll happen once I s—s—s—s—spot 'em
Run up and red dot 'em, yeah, n*gga, I got 'em
You know what'll happen
[Verse 2: Stack Bundles]
([?]) Or we could keep it a secret
[?] ya with the same steak knife I eat wit'
And I ain't really 'posed to dirty my hands
'Cause when I do it I'm just weakenin' my chain of command (bruh)
But sometimes it's worth it (for real)
And most n*ggas is b*tches, ya die with the same problem ya birthed with
Hermaphrodite, uh, nasty
And now the coke prices 'bout as high as the gas be
I read you young n*ggas like The Great Gee-as-by
Convertible, eight-forty, same colour as NESTEA
You ask me n*ggas salty like [?] (why?)
'Cause a n*gga move green like Lantern (for real)
Or purple like the label on his cardigan, so honor him
Have vinyl hangin' from a tree like an ornament (ornament)
And these n*ggas I'm supposed to beef wit'?
Ku Klux Klan 'em, have 'em on some white sheet sh*t ([?])

[Chorus: [?] (Joe Budden)]
You know what'll happen once I c—c—catch 'em
Let 'em wear a bullet and see if the sh*t match 'em
You know what'll happen once I s—s—s—s—spot 'em
Run up and red dot 'em, yeah, n*gga, I got 'em
You know what'll happen once I c—c—catch 'em
Let 'em wear a bullet and see if the sh*t match 'em
You know what'll happen once I s—s—s—s—spot 'em (it's, it's...)
Run up and red dot 'em, yeah, n*gga, I got 'em (it's that On Top music!)
You know what'll happen
[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
If it's real beef I'm cookin' 'em with the nine
So you rap n*ggas best stop lookin' for the sublime
I'm fully aware I ain't cared for amongst my peers
It's also clear these n*ggas is queer, yeah
If you see me with the Glock then I'm Rambo
We [?] doors, we just cop Lambo's
I'ma sling 'til God put me in a cage
You want South Beach tan or a hardwood beige? (oh)
Dumb out, dumb out, gun out, the one blaow
Will dump out, yep, could'a guessed that he would run out
Yep, could'a guessed that he would squeeze 'til it run out
I might put the revolver up and pull a pump out (why?)
Coppers get at me regardless
Got the key to my hood, I'm gettin' all faced wit' Cassidy charges
You hear that Gat sound?
Tough guy stop tryna be Jeezy with all that "yeah" in the background (yeah)
If it's 'bout [?] I done it
So start treatin' me as if my credit score's over eight-hundred
I ain't with the riffraff 'til it get to the click-clack
p*ssbag, have 'em walkin' with a p*ssbag
No rappers wrestlin', I do it for starters
Fix his wig up, call me Brutus "The Barber", n*gga
I told money that I'm his father
n*gga had his whole hood lookin' like Pearl Harbor, n*gga
Teach dudes how to steal and get fly
Four bathrooms and up with the ceilings that's high
Driveway when I'm peelin' that five
Man, f*ck it, I just copped a whole island since Gilligan died (yeah)
I hustle that blow, call me Hustle & Flow
Cut the top of the charger like, "f*ck it, it's Joe"
'Cause I was fourteen like runnin' [?]
Back when Cappadonna put his number in the song
Stones and [?] sh*t, diamonds on my neck sh*t
Bracelet, necklace, yep, get on some next sh*t
But if your outfit is nice I'ma check it
Marques Houston won't be the only n*gga naked, motherf*cker
[Verse 4: Bynoe]
(You know what'll happen) Once I c—c—catch 'em (yeah)
Ah sh*t, the MAC-Eleven made a mess of 'em (what else?)
If you kick my dog I'ma shoot your cat
The right never gon' stop, all hell [?] (salute)
I ain't got sh*t to lose, you want beef? Let's do it
I get you banged up courtesy of my best shooters (yeah)
All you got is respect, ain't nuttin' promised but death
Lead wounds and pour Henny is the outcome of that
I toured the world and f*cked the baddest b*tches in all states (ah-huh)
Come back to the hood to bullsh*t and more hate (damn)
I'm disgusted, all the sh*t that's goin' on
Lay a hand on me, your mama gon' be singin' slow songs (it's so hard)
[?] lose a couple pints and you stressed like the letter t
You got yourself to blame, so check, check out my nina, b
You know what'll happen (happen)
Your head hurt? I got a fully loaded magazine to aspirin
Them painkillers hittin' ya
I get up in that young boy ass like an enema (yeah)
And that's no homo
I have your ass sittin' on flats like low-pros ([?])
I spit p*ss on a n*gga for GP (what else?)
Bust a n*gga head wide open if need be (okay)
So go ahead and make your lil' record
Say my name and your mama gon' be talkin' to detectives, n*gga

[Outro: [?]]
You know what'll happen
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