Offshore

[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] They say the tongue is the perfect weapon All I hang around nowadays is verse perfection I knew these three niggas for years but when they each get in that booth they make a first impression Time and time again I just want them to rhyme again on some fan shit I used to rock Boom in the hoopty on the Van Wyck with my man Vic, rest his soul Before I had a clue what Joe was like I used to cop Clues just to hear what Joe would write Novel Used to tell me, me and Crooked sounded so alike An '07 XXL shoot, he came over like "I'm Crook", I'm like "Oh, hi" Pleasure to meet you brother Seven years later I'm like wow I met my brother on the freshmen cover We saw the world together Back of that bus fucking girls together Got home and broke up with our girls together Homie this is special Y'all rescued me from special forces back home forced to wear a 38 special Cause none of 'em jam ya' Summer jam was cool but we hung in Japan I dont think y'all niggas truly understand I used to think my only way out of the hood was through the number man Get drunk and pop shit about running the can Damn a whole lot to look forward to Papi I was going through What any other thorough nigga in my hood was going through The G Code I know it's true You throw at every one of them niggas before they throw at you Back then I thought that made me real Listening to myself now that shit just gave me chills man Cause I'd have missed this bus I mean this private jet no middle seat cause it's just us shiit' All of this cause I can spit? It's crazy how this get when you can say that shit For the haters being a bitch like he ain't making no grip I just bought my lady a whip without a radio hit, bitch I'd rather talk to you niggas Cause really it could be on the way I'm offin' you niggas feel me So lets just leave it at that Cause if I decide to crumble paper it ain't to rewrite raps I got shooters on retainers that would bring me your medulla in containers Please be on your cool behavior homey And let's just leave it at that I know I said that shit before But I'm trying to save y'all from a war [Interlude: Crooked I] Yeah you know how you got a Godmother I got a God grandmother Attie May Johnson man I just got the phone call tonight that she- She passed away man, know what I'm saying She went to the other side Attie May I still got that Brut cologne you bought for me for my birthday I love you let me holler [Verse 2: Crooked I] I was opening up a can of spam putting ketchup on fake meat Still thankful though cause so many hungry nights I ate sleep Talking to my cousin before I dropped him off in Grape Street He said, "Crook who we gotta kill to get you a Dre beat? Cause I don't wanna' see you on this ratchet shit these niggas is on And how come niggas don't pick up the phone for you to get on a song?" I said, "probably cause I'ma pick 'em apart as soon as I get in the zone" And I definitely didn't condone dick riding so I did it alone Industry don't want a real nigga to creep in, fuck it, I'ma sneak in And fuck going back to that book store I used to sleep in My homie let me stay on Saturday and Sunday, I used to be homeless like The Weeknd Same three outfits switching them shits till the week ends Drowning in my sorrows drinking till I'm sinking in the deep end Made myself a promise I'ma be the one in the end With these rehabilitation bars I'ma clean 'em up with the pen Then my problems gonna be over and solved They finally let me in the damn door now I hope it revolves Let me out of this mother fucker too many corny ass bitch ass Kiss ass punk ass buster ass fuck ass niggas Faggots playing hide the salami This is a snake business my nigga and I ain't the swami n'aw This is Crooked remember I rap circles around your favorite MC While calling George Zimmerman a bitch on cable tv In a racially profiled hoodie using BETs cypher just to push my agenda I'm Dominick Wickliffe, I'm James' son Even though he wore a condom I busted through it I can't forget where I came from I keep hearing that there's real niggas in the game alright name some All I know is rap's a circus You're reaching again, y'all bleaching your skin, y'all bastards searching For plastic surgeons to make sure that all of your facial features are thin You're turning Hip-hop to pop you maggots singing again Just snap your finger and spin What the fuck you rapping for? And motherfuck a Grammy, just hand them bitches to Macklemore I don't need you to tell me that I'm more gifted then a Capricorn Born before Christmas get it? Y'all on some nonsense And I'm the type to laugh soon as I hear about Donald Sterling's bitch choking on Magic's Johnson [Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9"] (Let me get 'em Crook) I'm cool, calm, collective, smooth I come from using coupons with a true mom with infectious views Number one with you honour and respect the rules I'm five feet nine inches tall but boy when I'm standing next to dudes It's like I'm standing on a stepping stool 'Cept when I'm standing with the wrecking crew We can turn the tables if we could just make these records move I know I know it's easier said then done but until the day that I'm done and dead I'll be remembered by more shit being done then said Listening to rap you gon' hear lies told But not from me and not on this this one goes out to every bloggin' columnist around the globe I want my rhyme flow solidified in time so I gotta get on my grind bro I'm thankful for the success that I have with Em' but honestly he could've sold more records than that on his own in a blind fold And all I'm picturing is my daddy with his arms folded And looking at me with that look like that's cool but get your own Confidence breeds success when it's spoke on Then Patron comes into play then it's postponed For whatever reason Shady Records still believes in us And whatever they see in us Interscope don't Comments being made like "Niggas old and they pathetic" Now how many times have we proved niggas wrong? And how many niggas you think gon' come out of them offices And try to show up when we blow up? Some are gon' even try to take the credit While we was doing the album the J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League manager was like "Them niggas album ain't never coming out, them niggas don't even like each other" Well fuck the J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League manager I would tell you to tell him I said it but talk behind backs is for amateurs Bitches, fake niggas, and punks I don't know it all I just know how to ball and go out and get eight figures in chunks I'm a fucking warrior I'm a true survivor of having death at your door step, drama in your foyer That's probably why I looked at that bottle like that's euphoria When you an addict nobody gotta ask if you wanna' drink that habit will actually ask it for ya' And that'll destroy ya' Take it from a G, they call me a soul survivor Cause my soul done floated on to the crossroads for change more than toll for drivers I made my oldest a promise To keep my balls off the net and stay devoted to his Mama [Verse 4: Joe Budden] (Let me get 'em Nickle) Tell me what if this is big as I'm supposed to be I'd hate for that to get confirmed don't take the hope from me Cause that's a deep threat I mean I'd like to think that I ain't take a peek at my peak yet I got my feet wet In '98 they said I was close to my death bed Embalming fluid on my cig' it was a meth head Was hard back then, ain't have a car back then Still in on Mase had me wishing I had T.V's in the head rest B.I.G.'s "Suicidal Thoughts" was getting him through Would've took my life had I'd have known who I was giving in to Mama screaming listen to rules if you gon live in this roof In retrospect hidden jewel it helped me get in this booth Now my notoriety trumping how incognito I try to be Even make my bitches keep it low they on their Nya Lee I don't trust none of these hoes Sad part is I'm such a tortured soul I had that thought when I proposed Suited up ring in my hand while in my head I'm saying fuck this bitch Makes sense that she was thinking even less of me Got ruined in my youth when the first one got the best of me When she said she'd never leave then she left fuck y'all expect of me That resentment only had me fucking different bitches different weeks But most of them was bad that made it bitter sweet Those are growing pains call it paying dues She killed a nigga then birthed one all with the same move We could hit the hookah spot and do a dinner But thanks to my baby mother I'll bust anywhere but in her Cause a baby for her is just a problem I'll be stuck with Like what gives so n'aw I ain't arrogant but my nut is I'm scarred happened years ago I'm still effected If she suck and a swallow then she'll get high it's pill infested 500 proof laced with addict deficiencies But accent in my son another owed to inconsistency Ugh' looking at all my life's typos Just trying to remove the fat provide the lipo' Two words for my enemies: die slow Full-time pyros', we do this with our eyes closed [Outro: Joe Budden] Word up man one more time for the half wits and the simpletons It go two words for my enemies die slow Full time fuck it word La slaughter, La Familia Ya' know what I mean No matter what we ride, so lets ride