Текст песни: Game, The - Buddens(Joe Budden Diss)



-verse 1-


Bitch niggas get put in a coffin


With all that psychopath talkin


You listenin to da source, and I ain`t from boston


I`m gang bangin, red G-6`s


Call `em how I see em, these niggas is bitches


And clue put this nigga on a song


Now it`s G-unit and I came to get it on


You ain`t hot, nigga you luke warm


I`ll hog tie your ass wit G-unit shoes on


You had pump it up, that was a cool song


You only sold 10 records nigga now move on


Talkin bout you got ratchets and twos on


when You was at the allstar game wit no jewels on


I cant believe I gave you dap


Wit da 45 on me, I should`ve gave you dat


Pistol whipped you, layed you flat


Jumped off Buddens, nah a disgrace for a yankee hat


And it`s time to state my biz


Only nigga pushin Rock in jersey is Jason Kidd


You a phony nigga, I erase your wit


Have you runnin to da church like Mase done did.





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





You don`t know me..fool


To dis me on DJ..Clue


I don`t need no assistance


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 at Atlantic City


You bad boy then dance like diddy


I give celebrity beat downs, I bring da camera wit me


On dat mixtape shit, you know my man was 50


And I keep some chrome in da tanish dickies


Smoke nigga like a gram of sticky


And I know my way to Harlem, I`d take you to Branstons wit me


Come to Compton, you`ll vanish quickly


I got niggas in da hood dat`ll kill you for a can of Migee`s


Gangs of L.A. we never die..


And we`ll let hollow tips fly at Joe..





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





I drive through da desert storm, kick up dust


Red and blue rags hanging outta pick up trucks


Get banks on da phone, nigga hit Young Buck


Tell him we got a problem wit dis dumb fuck


You was just in da city of angels


In da W lobby, in da presence of gangstas


I`m da nigga dat`ll beat you wit da stainless


And leave you alive so you can run and tell Skane (bitch)


I got niggas in Jersey, dat`ll hang you


I`ma Los Angeles king, wit New York rangers


And you lucky Yayo got dat beeper in his ankle


Joe Buddens da true definition of a wangsta





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





-Game talking-


Dis nigga try and act like he ain`t know wat da fuck he was doin


You knew what you was doin nigga


Stop lying to da fuckin people nigga


Go jump on a freestyle, niggas on dat fly shit


Try to dis G-Unit nigga


And I`m on da fuckin first verse


You ain`t slick nigga


I caught dat shit like a mother fuckin


Gregg Mayers fastball nigga


50 get Dre on da phone


See if dat nigga remember what Joe Buddens 2nd single was


Cause I don`t


I took a survey in da hood nigga, went to da projects


Asked bitches if they was feelin your shit


They was like "Nope."


Went to da hood, asked niggas if they was feelin your shit


They was like "Nope."


Then I went to Jersey, caught me a fuckin flight man


Took my last $500 man


Flew to jersey, asked niggas in Jersey if they liked your shit


They was like "Nope."


So I said fuck it, I`ma take this nigga motha fuckin head off


BlackWallStreet, AfterMath, G-G-G-G-Unit


u know wat it is nigga, and u know where to find me...


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-verse 1-


Bitch niggas get put in a coffin


With all that psychopath talkin


You listenin to da source, and I ain`t from boston


I`m gang bangin, red G-6`s


Call `em how I see em, these niggas is bitches


And clue put this nigga on a song


Now it`s G-unit and I came to get it on


You ain`t hot, nigga you luke warm


I`ll hog tie your ass wit G-unit shoes on


You had pump it up, that was a cool song


You only sold 10 records nigga now move on


Talkin bout you got ratchets and twos on


when You was at the allstar game wit no jewels on


I cant believe I gave you dap


Wit da 45 on me, I should`ve gave you dat


Pistol whipped you, layed you flat


Jumped off Buddens, nah a disgrace for a yankee hat


And it`s time to state my biz


Only nigga pushin Rock in jersey is Jason Kidd


You a phony nigga, I erase your wit


Have you runnin to da church like Mase done did.





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





You don`t know me..fool


To dis me on DJ..Clue


I don`t need no assistance


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 at Atlantic City


You bad boy then dance like diddy


I give celebrity beat downs, I bring da camera wit me


On dat mixtape shit, you know my man was 50


And I keep some chrome in da tanish dickies


Smoke nigga like a gram of sticky


And I know my way to Harlem, I`d take you to Branstons wit me


Come to Compton, you`ll vanish quickly


I got niggas in da hood dat`ll kill you for a can of Migee`s


Gangs of L.A. we never die..


And we`ll let hollow tips fly at Joe..





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





I drive through da desert storm, kick up dust


Red and blue rags hanging outta pick up trucks


Get banks on da phone, nigga hit Young Buck


Tell him we got a problem wit dis dumb fuck


You was just in da city of angels


In da W lobby, in da presence of gangstas


I`m da nigga dat`ll beat you wit da stainless


And leave you alive so you can run and tell Skane (bitch)


I got niggas in Jersey, dat`ll hang you


I`ma Los Angeles king, wit New York rangers


And you lucky Yayo got dat beeper in his ankle


Joe Buddens da true definition of a wangsta





Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens


Buddens, Buddens, Buddens





-Game talking-


Dis nigga try and act like he ain`t know wat da fuck he was doin


You knew what you was doin nigga


Stop lying to da fuckin people nigga


Go jump on a freestyle, niggas on dat fly shit


Try to dis G-Unit nigga


And I`m on da fuckin first verse


You ain`t slick nigga


I caught dat shit like a mother fuckin


Gregg Mayers fastball nigga


50 get Dre on da phone


See if dat nigga remember what Joe Buddens 2nd single was


Cause I don`t


I took a survey in da hood nigga, went to da projects


Asked bitches if they was feelin your shit


They was like "Nope."


Went to da hood, asked niggas if they was feelin your shit


They was like "Nope."


Then I went to Jersey, caught me a fuckin flight man


Took my last $500 man


Flew to jersey, asked niggas in Jersey if they liked your shit


They was like "Nope."


So I said fuck it, I`ma take this nigga motha fuckin head off


BlackWallStreet, AfterMath, G-G-G-G-Unit


u know wat it is nigga, and u know where to find me...


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