Come Along

[Intro - Joe Budden - talking] Uh, uh Ready? Check me out now [Verse 1 - Joe Budden] Come along, c-come, come along But I don't trust niggas, so make sure you come alone I hand picked you, you think sensibly They friends with you, don't need 'em to be friends with me Come along, I'm a take you to some spots that you might like But bring shades, you gonna need 'em for the bright lights Grab a drink, invite dykes that like Vic's We always end up fightin, cause that's my vice Come along, c-come, come along And you'll see how it feels when you sittin on the throne When you so much better but they act like it ain't known So if somebody else is on it, it's a temporarily loan Hard to compete when there ain't no competition If everybody's the best, why I feel like comp' is missin? Forced to find inspiration when I never had to So I go against myself, it's a better battle Now come along, c-come, come along Turned up the volume on her favorite song (favorite song) We got so much in common (except) Except when it comes to rhymin She feel like lyrics are so intrusive But I feel about her, the way she feels about music She's cute She don't like the words, she just like the beat and I'm thinkin me too (biatch!) [Hook - Joe Budden] - w/ ad libs Let it breathe Come along, c-come, come along Can we dim the lights? Let me get into my zone Come along, c-come, come along But I don't trust a soul, so make sure you come alone Let it breathe [Verse 2 - Joe Budden] Check it, come along, c-come, come along And watch these niggas that's doin it all wrong (whoa) Throwback swag, nigga still doin rims (word) Still doin throwbacks, you still doin Timbs? (word) Lookin for a way to save, you ain't earnin no cake Moved back in with moms, she won't turn you away Then you all on the blogs, showin off a CL When it's followed by the K, gotta know it's a mistake (baby) Benefit of the doubt homie, if that ain't your daughter's car I suggest you stop rappin about a Audemars Cause in return, I'm a just call a fraud Every time I hear a bar about the baller you are Now listen, come along, c-come, come along She gonna probably drop her drawers, if she step into my home She gonna probably be on cock It's big enough to get Lost in without Jack or John Locke (whoa!) On the water like an island, thinkin she on the dock So she puttin in work, I'm thinkin she on the clock Uh, slow down baby girl, what you tryin to prove? (huh?) When you live like me, it's funny what one night can do (AH!) [Hook] - w/ ad libs [Verse 3 - Joe Budden] Come along, c-come, come along Is you niggas out your mind? (nigga!) Is it hard to recognize when you out your prime? Maybe they can't imagine livin life without that shine Walk around Hollywood like you so in demand But when the labels stop backin nigga, so do the fans Nigga you ain't a superstar, no allure about you And when you talk about me, it says more about you Now come along, c-come, come along Wonder why when I ain't around niggas change they tone That's the way it looks Do they really think whatever they say behind my back'll manage to stay put? We know the same people, go the same places From the same hood, can only be so evasive Come along, c-come, come along When you're from where I'm from, you're gonna probably need the chrome It ain't just me, it's like that where we all from Thought some of them niggas just do it out of boredom Some just preppin for the day they see a war come Hangin in the wrong place if you never saw one Now come along, c-come, come along I don't know who you done dealt with in the past Better be self sufficient ma, you don't get a pass Cause your thighs a little thick and you got a little ass You lookin for a sugar daddy, then go for it Twenty somethin years old with nothin to show for it (show for it) Talkin about she was raised different Well get your own pockets bitch (biatch), so was I (OH!) Now really, come along, c-come, come along I don't call them verses, they similar to poems Similar to scriptures, similar to pictures You can stick to rap, what we doin's much bigger (so much bigger) [Hook] - w/ ad libs [Outro - Joe Budden - talking] (*echo*) Huh? J. Cardim, what up? New Jerz, what up? Uh, Slaughterhouse, what up?