Joe Budden, Fabolous, Lloyd Banks, Royce da 5'9" - Remember the Titans lyrics

Uh uh
Yeah (J cardim)
Yeah yeah

These niggas losing their minds
You find that there's no reward
They say they already home
It’s really clear they abroad
They sound like they boxed in
It’s not just where they record
There’s a cost to be a
Boss they can’t clearly afford
Swear to the Lord
There's guns like a audience
You put on a show, my 40 clearly applauds
Sitting fifth row, I might appear to be bored
Plotting on a Kanye, but screaming
"Where’s my award?"
Balling out of control, never won an ESPY
'Bout to buy a black ghost
And name that shit SP flow outta this world
I’m coming for my Moon Man
You niggas slide back like that
Walking on the moon dance
No glitter glean, handgun with a beam
Have some boys follow you, Street Fam
Twitter team
Like you could fuck with me, oh did it seem?
Dr king and Def Jam ain't the
Only ones with a dream
I’m a grown-ass man, this kid a teen
You’re a spoof of me like if
Hip hop did a Scream
Audi coupe looking good so I
Went and copped it
Got that TT popping like a trending topic
My ride's matte black
My pride is that jacked
It might get ya dog shot, even a cat smacked
Anyway though, styles don’t apply to me
Jeff Goldblum couldn’t be more fly than me
Shorty say, "Right after the suck, fuck
Poof"
You hit it on the head girl, duck duck goose
You shoulda got the message that
I chuck up deuce break 'em off and leave it
You seen my fucked up tooth
It’s fuck a bitch
It’s more fish in the aquarium
I rarely hear no
Like when niggas ask you to marry them
There’s no lights in the place
You buy your jewelry from
Funeral Fab, I’m just here to bury them

Reporting live from the Beacon
Booth tired from the beating
Had foreplay all day
Prepping the beat and the mic for a threesome
With my vocal bi-coastal
Speeding 'til the ride's totaled
Mr wi-Fi, out a franchise, go to magic
Standby local’s
Watch the track bust once I show my
Dick size to the Pro Tools
I teach you how to have models screaming
"Get behind me"
E-pills and Maybachs ain't gon' matter
If your tip is tiny never mind me
We could get knee deep in the beef
Seek me with the heat but you’ll need
More to keep me on a leash
Here’s a CC for the peeps that
Wanna see me in the streets
Invest in Rockports and be easy on your feet
Give a few hammers
A few semi’s and a few snubs to a few Crips
Couple vampires and true Bloods
Gambling in casinos
Have a honey handing me my c notes
To her, I'm a modern day Gambino
I’m careful every step I take
You the nigga walk up in a
Shootout with some pepper spray
That’d be the last mistake you ever made
Me, I chop his head off from a rooftop
And race it downstairs just to see
If I can catch his fade
Like groceries when I’m shooting at fags
Make sure the bread's separated and put
The fruit's in a bag withstand the hatred
Dudes is fallin off doin all
They can to save it
But everybody's run stops, ask Brandon Jacobs
What y’all call swag to me is all faggotry
Fours want blat at me
That’d equal more casualties
Abort the strategy or get
Attacked with that Duracell
They put in your back
Now that's assault and battery
You can keep the bitching to yourself
There’s beams on every burner, these lasers
A petition wouldn’t help
What good is having shooters if
They the type that miss? Where I’m from
Better be careful where you drive that whip
Niggas put they life at risk
For pies they flip in my town
Ben Affleck wouldn't try that shit
And if he did he’d get turned around
Burnt down
Tell the new jacks it’ll be a while
'fore they eligible to earn the crown

Acid out the baggie, this is more than dope
Flawless flow
Fucking off a sign every horoscope
Done wore my robes
Strapping up the corner cold, critical
Unquestioned, my opponents know
I shoot like Kapono, watch me own the show
Comatose, toasted
Getting money while I roam the coast
Stones and boats, mansion homes and hoes
I deserve ‘em both, overdose
Time to earn my votes
Watch me turn the volts
Voltage through a meter, this electric chair
Danger yeah, I see ya
Now make way 'fore it turn to diarrhea
Hear a microphone will give you 3
Of everything I wear yeah
Models by the pair, swear
Bottles, private Lear, steer
Style that's outta here, rare
Thousands by the chair, square
Sleep with me, you came here
War with me is scary
Get beat silly trying to lamp here
Better bring your fury heat
I got a drop damp here, niggas try me barely
No one breathes, I need an ant's ear
Pressure's necessary
Got my mind on the cheddar
Kill my haters together
Bury 'em in abundance and
Starve their families stomach’s
Paper come in my thumbage
Brand new fifties and hundreds
On point, just like the drum is
I’m warning them baby mothers
Got the hunger of a broke rapper
Kill you while I’m rolling
Up then smoke after
Catch you at your show, snatch ya
Empty out the dough faster
Bentley off the scene, magnum Mo' splasher
Four packer
Southside nigga spitting coke at ya!

Nickel! This is for the
Fronters and the naysayers
I’m about to scare away the
Drummers and the bass players
They say I’m out of my league on this one
So when I get done
I want you to cut your fuckin'
Ears off and Twitpic ‘em!
Lord, I want you to leave this vicinity
You gon' be around here 'bout
Long as Justin Bieber’s virginity
This is Jesus identity, mixed
With weed, Hennessy, Kennedy, king
Mixed with a kill or be killed
Killer regime, illest you seen, switch
Y’all write all that hard shit
Then you fall right off, it’s horrible
My oracle is all I offer
So before I borrow your
'Won’t be here tomorrow' flow, sorry
I will prob'ly
Adiós my body wit' somebody toast
This shit just practice
Sickest rapping Baptist, kill your pastor
Steal your Chapstick
After that make you kiss a cactus
Then take your ho
Make the ho give the whole clique fellatio
Everyone, that wasn’t the whole
Entourage on HBO
Then after that, I tell her, "I
Can’t do much with you, shawty!
I just found out I could fly to
Dubai and hire Buffie the Body!"
Don't call us if the bitches ain’t flawless
If they are then we can hang
Like Aretha Franklin bra less
The drunk me can box like a sober you
The sober me be more nervous than
Waka Flocka in the voting booth
We beef like being deep and dumping K’s
You beef like Lady Gaga and her stylist
Y’all get together to look good in
Front of a bunch of gays
My feng shui is a pump in the desert
You’ll come up shorter than an Asian jumping
Out of a trunk in the desert
While my wolfpack looks for
Strippers and cocaine
Niggas snitching, it’s a shame
We call 'em male tattlers
Fiends touching they noses more
Than URL battlers
It’s hard to spit saliva when you spit fire
So I’ll just pour sugar in your gas tank
Put a banana in your tailpipe
Ah ha, so the car can fit the driver