Look, standing in the cypher rocking
To driving some of the hottest cars New Jersey's ever seen
To dropping some of the dopest mixtapes that you ever heard
And it's all courtesy of weed, a couple of Percs, and lean, baby
I wish you niggas that would owe me some bread would come and drop it off
I wish she start tongueing a girl, but she won't pop it off
Wish I knew you wasn't with the shit, so what you hopping for?
When pussy's thrown your way every nanosecond it's not an option ya'll
Normally a sponge, but this some shit I just cannot absorb
Why ya'll are dressed like Metro Boomin? I wish you would knock it off
Wish the best MC didn't mean who is more popular
But I just booked my next nine months, ready to lock and more
Money is a lot to grab
Before we get to it there's a question that I gotta ask
Where's all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me mama, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
I hear they thinkin' bout speakin' my name
Bet if they could I'm takin bets
Money on my hood, money on me, I'm good
Money on the wood, money on wishin' that money would
That's him against the wild life
And I got money on the woods, baby
Two bitches, three's company, how I half with her
This Hennessy don't do the trick, then watch this Jack trip her
I'm tryna' buy a compound, I need the pad bigger
Thats seven bed rooms, eight and half baths, I figure
Bad strippers, and fraudulent hourglass figures
Got every bartender thinkin' she'll get a glass slipper
You see a line of bottles comin', guess who orderin' 'em
I'm pointin' at one, they all coming in
Every rapper in your crew, my crew is slaughtering them
Put vegetables in your house, nobody walking again
What time you get off, I'm showing up there
Nine in one hand, .45 in the other, round quarter to ten
I mean, the money is a lot to grab
Before we get into there's a question that I gotta ask
Wheres all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me ma, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
How many MC's must get dissed?
In the great words of Buckshot my answer is "why the f*ck not?"
Come to bars, I'm the same nigga that love to club hop
Don't be the guy to get your entire team in a rough spot
We the OG, thorough niggas, huggin' the block
Way down to the crooked businessman thats fudgin' them docs
The early teams in the hoods out there f*ckin' with cops
Know they f*ck with us back now, especially if you black now
It's Joe
Joe Budden - I Gotta Ask Lyrics
Joe Budden - I Gotta Ask Lyrics
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Look, standing in the cypher rocking
To driving some of the hottest cars New Jersey's ever seen
To dropping some of the dopest mixtapes that you ever heard
And it's all courtesy of weed, a couple of Percs, and lean, baby
I wish you niggas that would owe me some bread would come and drop it off
I wish she start tongueing a girl, but she won't pop it off
Wish I knew you wasn't with the shit, so what you hopping for?
When pussy's thrown your way every nanosecond it's not an option ya'll
Normally a sponge, but this some shit I just cannot absorb
Why ya'll are dressed like Metro Boomin? I wish you would knock it off
Wish the best MC didn't mean who is more popular
But I just booked my next nine months, ready to lock and more
Money is a lot to grab
Before we get to it there's a question that I gotta ask
Where's all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me mama, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
I hear they thinkin' bout speakin' my name
Bet if they could I'm takin bets
Money on my hood, money on me, I'm good
Money on the wood, money on wishin' that money would
That's him against the wild life
And I got money on the woods, baby
Two bitches, three's company, how I half with her
This Hennessy don't do the trick, then watch this Jack trip her
I'm tryna' buy a compound, I need the pad bigger
Thats seven bed rooms, eight and half baths, I figure
Bad strippers, and fraudulent hourglass figures
Got every bartender thinkin' she'll get a glass slipper
You see a line of bottles comin', guess who orderin' 'em
I'm pointin' at one, they all coming in
Every rapper in your crew, my crew is slaughtering them
Put vegetables in your house, nobody walking again
What time you get off, I'm showing up there
Nine in one hand, .45 in the other, round quarter to ten
I mean, the money is a lot to grab
Before we get into there's a question that I gotta ask
Wheres all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me ma, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
How many MC's must get dissed?
In the great words of Buckshot my answer is "why the f*ck not?"
Come to bars, I'm the same nigga that love to club hop
Don't be the guy to get your entire team in a rough spot
We the OG, thorough niggas, huggin' the block
Way down to the crooked businessman thats fudgin' them docs
The early teams in the hoods out there f*ckin' with cops
Know they f*ck with us back now, especially if you black now
It's Joe
To driving some of the hottest cars New Jersey's ever seen
To dropping some of the dopest mixtapes that you ever heard
And it's all courtesy of weed, a couple of Percs, and lean, baby
I wish you niggas that would owe me some bread would come and drop it off
I wish she start tongueing a girl, but she won't pop it off
Wish I knew you wasn't with the shit, so what you hopping for?
When pussy's thrown your way every nanosecond it's not an option ya'll
Normally a sponge, but this some shit I just cannot absorb
Why ya'll are dressed like Metro Boomin? I wish you would knock it off
Wish the best MC didn't mean who is more popular
But I just booked my next nine months, ready to lock and more
Money is a lot to grab
Before we get to it there's a question that I gotta ask
Where's all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me mama, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
I hear they thinkin' bout speakin' my name
Bet if they could I'm takin bets
Money on my hood, money on me, I'm good
Money on the wood, money on wishin' that money would
That's him against the wild life
And I got money on the woods, baby
Two bitches, three's company, how I half with her
This Hennessy don't do the trick, then watch this Jack trip her
I'm tryna' buy a compound, I need the pad bigger
Thats seven bed rooms, eight and half baths, I figure
Bad strippers, and fraudulent hourglass figures
Got every bartender thinkin' she'll get a glass slipper
You see a line of bottles comin', guess who orderin' 'em
I'm pointin' at one, they all coming in
Every rapper in your crew, my crew is slaughtering them
Put vegetables in your house, nobody walking again
What time you get off, I'm showing up there
Nine in one hand, .45 in the other, round quarter to ten
I mean, the money is a lot to grab
Before we get into there's a question that I gotta ask
Wheres all my niggas with the rubber grips? (bust shots)
And if you with me ma, I'm rubbin' ya tits, and whatnot
How many MC's must get dissed?
In the great words of Buckshot my answer is "why the f*ck not?"
Come to bars, I'm the same nigga that love to club hop
Don't be the guy to get your entire team in a rough spot
We the OG, thorough niggas, huggin' the block
Way down to the crooked businessman thats fudgin' them docs
The early teams in the hoods out there f*ckin' with cops
Know they f*ck with us back now, especially if you black now
It's Joe
Writer: Joe Budden
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group