[Intro: Game]
We got a problem Houston,
Not Marques Houston or his little rapping side kick
We got a real mutha f**in' problem
And its only gonna be one of these songs
After that I'mma knock your mutha f**in' a** out
[Verse 1:Game]
b**h n***as get put in the coffin
With all that psychopath talking
You listening to the Source and I ain't from Boston
I'm gang banging, wear G-6's
Call em' how I see em', these n***as is b**hes
And Clue put this n***a on a song and now its G-Unit
And I came to get it on
You ain't hot, n***a you lukewarm
Ill hog tie your a** with G-Unit shoes on
You had pump it up that was a Koo song
You only sold 10 records n***a now move on
Talking about you got ratchets and tools on
When you was at the all-star game with no j**els on
I can't believe I gave you dap
With the .45 on me I should of gave you that
Pistol whipped you laid you flat
Jump off buddens nah, disgrace to a Yankee hat
And its time to state my biz
Only n***a pushing rocket jersey is Jason Kidd
You a phony n***a I'll erase your wig
Have you running to the church like Mason did
[Hook:]
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens, Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens,Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
Buddens,Buddens, Buddens, Buddens
[Verse 2: Game]
You don't know me fool
To diss me on Dj Clue
I don't need no a**istance to dig you a ditch
And any problem I got I just put my clip in
You fake like Janet's titty
One call 300 Bloods in Atlantic city
You bad boy then dance like Diddy
I give celebrity beat downs
I bring the camera with me
On that mixtape sh** you knew my man was 50
And I keep something chrome in them tanish dickeys
Smoke n***as like a gram of sticky
And I know my way to Harlem ill take you to bransons with me
Come to Compton you'll vanish quickly
I got n***as in the hood that'll k** you for a can of Mickey's
Gangs of L.A. we never die
And we'll let hollow tips fly at Joe
[Hook:]
[Verse 3: Game]
I drive through the desert storm kick up dust
Red and blue rags hanging out of pick up trucks
Get Banks on the phone, n***a hit Young Buck
Tell em' we got a problem with this dumb f**
You was just in the city of angels
In the W lobby in the presence of gangsters
I'm the n***a that'll beat you with the stainless
And leave you alive so you can run and tell stain
b**h, I got n***as in Jersey that'll hang you
I'm a Los angeles King with New York rangers
And you lucky Yayo got that beeper on his ankle
Joe Budden is a true definition of a wa*kster
[Hook]
[Outro: Game]
This n***a try to act like he ain't know what the f** he was doing
You knew what you was doing n***a, stop lying to the f**in' people n***a
Gone jump on a freestyle n***a on that fly sh**, try to diss G-Unit n***a
And im on the f**in' first verse, you ain't slick n***a
I caught that sh** like a mutha f**in' greg maddox fast ball n***a
50 get Dre on the phone, see if that n***a remember what Joe Buddens second single was
Cause I don't. I took a survey in the hood n***a
Went to the projects asked b**hes if they feeling your sh**
They was like no
Haha, I went to the hood asked n***as if they was feeling your sh**
They was like no
Than I went to Jersey, caught me a f**in flight man took my last 500 dollars man
Flew to Jersey, asked n***as in Jersey if they like your sh**
They was like no, so I said f** it
Ima take this n***a mutha f**in head off
Blackwall Street, Aftermath, G-G-G-G-unit
You know what it is n***a and you know where to find me