Joe Budden Hiatus Lyrics

Mood Muzik 3: The Album Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Dear Diary
  • 2 Hiatus
  • 3 Family Reunion
  • 4 Get No Younger
  • 5 Un4given
  • 6 All of Me
  • 7 Long Way to Go
  • 8 Thou Shall Not Fall
  • 9 Ventilation
  • 10 Warfare
  • 11 Roll Call
  • 12 Secrets
  • 13 Send Him Our Love
  • 14 Star Inside Me
  • 15 Still in My Hood
  • 16 4 Walls


  • [Verse: Joe Budden]
    Two years, waits up
    Still sleep, wake-up
    Girl gone, break-up
    Mind right, cake up.
    Friends came, friends left
    Bullshit is endless, been next
    Hip-Hop, really not impressed.
    Maybe just my love died
    Sober, still above high.
    Slugs fly, eyes sub-dry
    Still a thug cries.
    I cried 'till I can't cry no more
    Believe my own nonsense, I can't lie no more
    Soul dead, breathless; I can't sigh no more
    Wheels already fell off, I can't ride no more.
    I guess I... pack-up all of my belongings and just troop it
    You know it's beef when a smart nigga gets stupid.
    'Cause then it's justified, rational, nullified
    ?Steve? is shot 8 times, almost thought my brother died. (Talk to 'em)
    See he was raised different, I know his mother tried
    His arms tied, I'm try'nna teach dude to touch the sky (but...)
    But still shorty wild, turned on by 40 Cals.
    Was young, never saw me wild, clutch Robert Horry style. (Oh!)
    No wonder I picked-up triggers to beef
    I only ever fist fought wit niggas bigger than me
    I never been the one ta' try an' grab shit in my reach
    Incompliant, you have now witnessed the preach.
    I feel like life is all written, understand my math
    Got on my knees, told God I had a plan, He laughed.
    I mean... hours passed, no sleep, cowards get a slow leak
    Showered twice the whole week, powerless control freak.
    Thinkin' about suicide, won't though I'm scrutinized
    Life nigga; do or die, hood want 'em crucified.
    Jewelry on, fresh dressed, model brawds excess
    Phone calls, death threats, tell me what's the next step.
    What's what, who's who, paranoid as usual
    Grippin' on my deuce-deuce, either way a lose-lose.
    All I need is one mic, razor blades, gun fights
    Grew wit'out no sunlight, understand son's plight.
    If done right, won't seek an' fail
    I don't follow the path, I'm creatin' my own ta' leave a trail.
    It's no rhyme or reason nor reason ta' rhyme
    No more food for thought, shit deceasin' the mind
    Now they doubtin' my desire, second guessin' my fashion
    Like bringin' of weapons of mass in when you question my passion.
    I love for this, not the Baguettes an' the fame
    Got signed havin' an answer, then the question changed
    Sayin' Jump Off don't sound right is blasphemous downright
    I astound mics, music is just what feelings sound like.
    So even though when I do it it's flames
    For a while felt like I was makin' music in vain.
    We don't do it same, I use it for change
    Y'all do it for change, I use it for pain
    But keep doin' ya thang' Soundscan skyrocket
    Build all this hype 'bout it, prayin' people might cop it
    This is just my logic, maybe it's psychotic
    Though labels try ta' stop it this is my antibiotic, OH!!
    So lemme' start doin' what dudes like
    A nigga in the booth feelin' fresher than some new Nikes
    Dawg, an' I cruise like cruise control
    Fuck that! I can't do it, I might lose my soul.
    Even though it should help a nigga to his goal
    Would defeat the whole purpose
    Naw, that ain't what Jers. is
    Naw, that would be worthless
    Bars soundin' nervous
    A nigga much deeper than what'chu see on the surface.
    I'd rather resort back to snatchin' purses
    Finally understandin' what the gift an' the curse is.
    If I was more concerned about a purchase
    I would tell y'all it's about to go down like bird shit.
    It takes courage, me versus urges
    A wordsmith that got caught-up in label merges
    An' what's worse is, I been deserted in the circus
    Up-and-left the circuit, it's dead like hearses
    Sicker than them pedophiles workin' in them churches
    That ain't the type shit I need fit for my verses.
    Dawg, so lemme' help niggas understand Mouse
    Dawg, why try ta' fit in when you a stand-out?
    It's no album, but the money never ran out
    Aside from Rap, I'm kinda' focused on land now. (You know?)
    'Cause I don't know whurr' the game is
    I know we jus' been attacked by a Hurricane Chris.
    Some niggas can't fathom what money an' fame is
    Or some niggas get it by usin' they stainless
    Or some niggas get it, but the kid sustained it
    Me? I'm regular Joe, I don't let it change shit.


    Lyrics © OBO APRA/AMCOS

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