Joe Budden - Em360 Rapcity Backroom Freestyle lyrics

[Produced by !llmind] [Intro: Big Trigger] Yea Ya'll know what it is Rap City presents Em360 Slaughterhouse, Eminem, Big Tigg, Just Blaze! On the 1s and 2s, oh-oh [Intro: Eminem] Yo Tigg, get in the not booth And spit the truth, to the young youth [Verse 1: Big Trigger] Aight, ay, Amex don't leave home without your cards But this Hip Hop, so don't leave home without your bars And for some of these rap stars, that's just too bad Cause you can't bring out them bars, that you ain't never had It's Eminem and Slaughterhouse, yeah you know we the truth And ohh the game is out of order, since we closed the booth Yes indeed original, beats the replacement cause The back room will never be what the basement was [Verse 2: Joe Budden] I'm the realest mo'f**er that I know Wasn't always the case guess the figure had to grow I do it for the love I don't do it for the dough But I know these s**er figures will so they keep me on my toes What's sad is I couldn't tell you what I'm hated for And them paink**ers didn't murder the pain they gave me more These fans on my head now they say they want the old Joe I grew up mature y'all can't see that this the old Joe Want to see me lose every battle of depression No matter what it do to me, no matter my regression They want to see me fall, want to ruin my regiment from the start Want to cut the beat off soon as I let em in my heart I'd be the first to admit it, lost focus for a while Sendin' unsolicited dick pics to dimwitted thick chicks Was so high I lost track of my ways Then I fell in love with a baby and got mad at her age The way she act and behave, was it an act or a phase How you trife when I gave you life You was lacking in wage You don't want say hi or speak to me Bet you makin 200 dollars by weekly Try to help the world out, bring some reparation And forget being humble in a state of desperation Ain't gotta ask what to help with no hesitation And for me to deal with it I might need some meditation I love you but its best we stay apart, segregation And to cope with the feeling I might need some medication Trust me I don't never want to see that side of Joe It would k** us all slow, one reason I'm the realest mother-mother I know [Verse 3: Royce da 5'9] Its Nickle, riding round in that Maserati four seat Symbol on the grill looking like Tony Stark's goatee Best rapper alive and you know me The most distinguished shooter that's coming up out of the D since Joe D I take mines at lead point At the risk of having to shave my garlic clove in a razor inside a fed joint Hip hop is alive, but the rhymes died Only fear I have is "world star" being yelled from my blind side Don't get me wrong it ain't like I ain't never lost a fight But these days I'm more like a lyrical artiste I'm outlining everybody in chalk white The off-beat deceased version of Dr. Narcisse This ain't blueprint, your idolizing You tryna jump fast that's foolish of you in my drunk past and handing me my pilot's license That's plain stupid, your boy's a star Sitting in that drop top fish bowl and the doors ajar It's ironic I remember when I couldn't afford a car And now it's back and forth The black one or white one I call 'em Macklemore And Lord Jamar, first we defyin' the odds We not a group, we more like a circular firing squad This not a booth, this is our house and we won't stop We k**ed the cypher two times already What you gon' give us an award But we won't stop for shutting down the internet Now tell ya momma hi, and tell Rihanna we ain't finished yet [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz] When we step in that booth, that's when the flame enters Best spit, make any set trip, yeah its the gang members Waving that shady flag, navy jag Matching the yank' fit, with the polo brief showing, due to the lazy sag I'm in a crazy kind of place I got this thing right on my waist that'll leave tears on your baby mommas face So chill, I'm in a crazy kind of place, I got this thing below my waist That'll leave kids on your baby mommas face, for real The flow gets cracked, as it came in capsules Your cap just started snapping My starter caps was snapping When cross color was cracking And my cane was half full With the half moon park, hope you rap dudes smart Don't piss me off like the bathroom mop You don't want it with me If I'm throwing hooks at you, that don't mean the chorus for free So save your jabs its way better If I start throwing jabs I'm talking Zabs first three round against Mayweather Yeah I'm a crook from the brook, that mastered how (?) shook turned notebook Broke cook, I'm so dope look Bring the beat back with no hook just bars Just a thing of ours that make their pants drop, make em open up their bras Move g-strings like guitars, that's nothing, that's something light Like Riesling at the bar Y-A-O-W-A, if y'all ain't saying Yaowa by now you got nothing to say This like NWO vs NWA, y'all like the rockers versus the ROC Full of nothing but Jays Check the rocks its nothing fugaz' But don't get stupid my Cooper clique will throw shots for a couple of days Make it horny when we out, Amityville horror, y'all don't want it with the house [Verse 5: Crooked I] Slaughter season, y'all the reason Real dudes I'm bringing some more in Like a Polynesian Sick with the llama squeezing Bullets flew and the chopper sneezing Got your body and legs torn, but before you was airborne You was bob and weaving still getting hit till your nos' is weezing They set you deep in your coffin sleeping I'm gone off the deep end, I'm a wolf, this industry my sheep skin I'm out here hunting with my ink pen I'm living like a kingpin Doing it for my g's in the pen Dreaming about two-piecing a police chief's chin You rappers something candy coated, I don't like s**ers I'm Iron Mike, I don't like Busters You looking for em' fly dudes like Orville and Wilbur You got the Wright brothers No bright jeans, no bright colors I'm the second coming, the one that Pac predicted Islamic, Gnostic and Christian, the flow so godly you got to listen I backed you in a dodge a minute Like MC Eiht in a L.A. hat, these rappers straight tryna dodge a menace I'm looking at your videos, look like your watching tennis Brothers dressed like Maria Sharapova wearing yoga pants Meanwhile Big Poppa was rocking linens I guess that era's over man, hold on I'm splitting atoms when the scientific spitting is getting at em' I give em' different patterns, they didn't fathom, they stealing my styles Before me you didn't have em' You rappers made in my image like when God was inventing Adam Stab em in the abdomen when its crunch time I truly flip like Mayweather pissed of at a movie script Too many punchlines Family I'm amongst mine I keep the peace like a monks mind .357 fade your favorite barber Leave you in an old bush like an unshaven Barbara Don't stop what we doing When you see L.A. your team will be ruined This game need a new villain, I'm the kind to murder you on vine, ooh k** em' [Introduction: Big Trigger] Ladies and gentlemen Now introducing the man, the myth, the legend Mister Marshall Mathers AKA (chicka-chicka) Slim Shady [Verse 6: Eminem] Ayo can we cut this beat off I might need to do this acapella, yo Role model? I'll roll a model down a hill over broke bottles of coke products If she don't swallow, and tie her to the bumper, hit the throttle While I'm tryna hit the pot holes, I'll freaking take Madonna to McDonalds Any ho'll end up horizontal gettin' fondle I don't cuddle, I don't coddle Only motto that I follows any thing I drive, whether its a Navajo or a Tahoe Its got a ho in it Nah ho, I don't got no freaking bronco You looking for a buck, get a horse, f** Tonto I got a rusty Hondo with a bondo And a box of condoms you little blond ho f** me? f** you too, like I'm at Bonnaroo booing Bono And I ain't from this planet so nanu, nana, nanu I'm intolerable, too volatile, screw it I don't got too make honor roll To be on a roll I don't know much, what I do know I do it pronto though So knock it off, all these knock off me's, The last thing the world needs is another me But if you think this is part 2 to Recovery Or Love The Way You Lie part twelve Or something heart felt, you bout to make a discovery Like you found Christopher Columbus' compa** Ain't dumbing sh** down for you dumb motherf**ers, so s** it I took your best punchline like a punch in the stomach That punctured a lung punk and I'm still functioning from it Chump it was nothing Now watch while I f**in' one up it and toot my own horn Once I think of something to trump it And I don't need a f**ing instrument to sound off Like the trunk of an elephant. The triumphant Return of the ether spitting retard, reborn But chances of you having another re-birth, slim to none Like a skinny Mother Teresa, give a f** if its Easter, so kiss my keister Cus that's the only thing I'll turn the other cheek for