T-Shirts & Buddens lyrics

by

Waka Flocka Flame


[Intro]
Hey, Joe Budden
You're a motherf*ckin' joke
I'm hip-hop, rawest rapper alive

[Verse 1]
T-shirt and Buddens, this a f*cking warning shot
Rap n*ggas wanna talk, I leave with your jaw dropped
Lil B for lil' boss, big talk, get your head cracked
I'm from the hood, n*ggas terrorists with no Arabs
Westside gangsta connected to the mob
Connected to the Roc like I'm J Cole
Shoot like I'm Steve Nash, 4-5 tucked with my weed stash
You f*cking with a robber ex-dealer, get your knees cracked
Internet got you thinking that you is a God
Real hip-hop over here, blood and tears over here
No b*tch over here, bad b*tches over here
No pus*y over there, pump it up, you a queer
Tryna diss me when you got a f*ckin' full beard
Sit down old man, your back 'bout to blow out
My rap like a gold mine, studyin' my dope rhymes
Rawest rapper in the game, it's like I'm sniffing coke lines
Losin' all your hair, Joe, think you need Rogaine
Joe Budden, Joe Booty, what the f*ck is yo' name?
Shut the f*ck up with those depressin' ass songs
It's the summer time, get some f*ckin' pus*y and go home
Pump it up, pump it up? Man, I'm finna f*ck your b*tch, Joey
b*tch, I'm Based God, I should write you a f*ckin' hit, Joey
Leave your f*ckin' head holey, the clip got the rubber grip
Lil B for Lil Boss, I'm still screamin' "f*ck A b*tch"
I'm 20 and you 45, you look like you 55
Spit like I'm 65, eating pus*y 69
You're a nasty old man probably getting butt-f*cked
You run around, Karate Kid, where's your f*cking nunchucks?
Maybe you don't have none because you in the hood still
Probably sellin' X pills, probably eatin' as*h*le
Recording all your b*tches, you a motherf*ckin' pervert
Joe Budden T.V, Joe b*tch T.V
See me in 3D, I'm young but I'm ready, jack
I dare you to comeback, I won 'cause I am rap
Rap like Saran wrap, your model b*tches saved you
Put him on the internet 'cause don't nobody play you
Performing at cafes, you're still underground
How you go mainstream and run back underground?
Joe Budden, you're a clown, please just forgive me
You shoulda followed fans, now your ass is gonna be history
Make you an example, I feed your ass samples
You're my own son that ain't never made it rapping
I tried to give you chances, you didn't take my handout
And now you looking stupid as you did when you came out
And you ain't have no swag and you ain't have no cash
Joe Budden, you just ass
[Break]
Ahaha, n*gga T-Shirt & Buddens
Ayy, Joe Budden, shut the f*ck up

[Verse 2]
I have too much swag, Joe, don't bring your girl around
But this is about you, Joe, the bay you don't come around
The world on my back now, b*tch, I run the internet
Ba-rang-dang-dang, I'm very smart very intricate
I can tell you jealous of Lil B, I'm li'l boss
You mad I'm a pretty b*tch, you mad you a gay b*tch
You don't have no f*cking niche, surprised you still got fans
Act like a grown man, Mood Muzik, go cry
Joe Budden, go cry 'cause you a little fag boy
And go make a mixtape and mope over every song
Keep recording girlfriends, bet you still jack off
With your buttcheeks out listening to Mood Muzik
Screaming, "Lil B, why the f*ck you gotta Ether me?"
I could've been your friend, now your career is history
And Joe Budden, man, you can suck my f*cking di*k
And tell the whole world
You got murdered by a pretty b*tch
Lil B

[Outro]
Aye T-Shirts & Buddens
Rawest rapper alive
Lil B for Lil Boss
West coast
BasedGod
Ay, Joe Budden, and I bet you're not gon' say sh*t
I Ether'd your ass, I murdered your ass
Shut the f*ck up and sit on the internet
Lil B
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2012 - 2021 BeeLyrics.Net