6 Minutes of Death (Mood Muzik Vol. 2. 2015)

Текст песни Joe Budden and Jae Millz, Stack Bundles - 6 Minutes of Death (Mood Muzik Vol. 2. 2015)

6 Minutes of Death Lyrics[Verse 1: Jae Millz]
Millz break the block down from A to Z
I could supply you with work, little nigga, I'm like a temp agency
I'm in the kitchen, wood chair with the feet broke
Soft white got the table looking like a ski slope
Fuck going out, me and my money elope
And most niggas rap about money but they be broke
My man went to Morehouse and had strong blow
So I had him pitching in Atlanta like John Smoltz
Nigga, money make the world go round
And a stack of it'll make a nigga girl go down, clown
Patron and Grey Goose get the bitch loose
And after the crew, I'll have her licking on her sis, too
We getting money where I'm from, nigga (Harlem!)
We getting tired of your chick, tell her pack her shit
Come and get her, put her onto some shit, and get her grind right
Get her mind right, fatten the ass and get her spine tight
I'm the flyest
Most niggas want a deal with Nike
I'm like, dumb nigga, I'm tryna buy it
I need percentages, I don't care who the hottest
Little nigga, I think big like Christopher Wallace
And I won't stop until my grandkids' grandkids sitting on dollars
And I ain't even a father, nigga, call me Your Majesty
Young, black and fly
And when it come to dough I got a Jewish mentality
Little fuck niggas still trying to battle me
I go in their mouth like I'm a dentist looking for cavities
I don't know why your mans hyped you with that battery
I'll hit your whole team with caps, and I don't mean salaries, nigga
Already got dough, now I'm chasing the power
I'm the statue, stand tall cause I'm replacing the Towers
And these niggas washed up now, they faces is sour
Mad cause they broke and lonely and I'm making them dollars
With enough divas to spread out to ten cities
I can throw assists all night like I'm M. Bibby
Harlem got a fucking reason to front now
Uptown, let's go, we got a reason to stunt now
I told Joey and Stack shit ain't intact
Captains lost our city now we gotta get it back
Nigga, you can take it how you wanna
But ain't nothing impress me for the last three summers
I don't give a fuck how disrespected you may feel
Nigga, see me when you see me
It's whatever, it's Jae Millz, motherfucker
[Verse 2: Stack Bundles]
Nigga, the booth feel better when real 'round it
Still round it, dress square but a nigga well rounded
Grounded like I came home late on my curfew
And proved I was better than most niggas my first two
Lil' years in the mixtape league
Now it's bidding war time, I got a Bloomberg league
So the hood's overwhelmed
They know it's the voice of the hustle
Whenever they hear son up at the helm
Son give 'em hell like Daniel in The Advocate
The fans fiending for it, they got the addict itch
That's the bundles, put it all in your nose
These niggas is lil' me's, hear it all in their flows
Ho's, that's a topic you don't even wanna touch on
I face-fuck the ones you couldn't touch on
Hand brushed on see the denim, know what these 'bout
The Antik's, Red Monkey's, or Vi's out
Y'all bring the V's out, I can even splurge
GT's wasn't me so I'm leaning towards the Spurs
Leaning towards the furs a lil' more to my nature
Mink, coyote, fox all in the nature
I get it in blocks I'm the Seymour Cake-ster
I give it on the arm, you can get it from me
Cause if prices was any cheaper y'all be sellin' it for free
Paid 2-3 sell it for 2-2-5
McDonald's is making more for profit off Super Size
I spit the truth inside, niggas wrote the fake shit
These niggas practicing snitching, y'all on some jake shit
Millz spoke on it, I agree with him
Can't even spar with niggas, what's the reason for a gym
Ain't hot enough to even work up a sweat
I been fire since Wu days with The Purple Cassette
So when you mention my name these niggas get offended
No chain on, just a five star pendant
General of that Riot so Squadddd Up
Feeling real prestigious hopping out that Porsche truck
I'm on top of my game and still climbing
They're not fucking with him, can't even peel off his hymen
[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
It's the nigga with the mask on that would yack dude for jewels
Ain't gotta say it, that dude the truth, make me put that tool to use
And these niggas that be in the game shakin like Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf
Not Tourrette's, gotta rep my team to the end
Lambos to Ferraris to the Beamers to the Benz
If I blam it'll kill, never ran never will
Only thing that bleed on me is these jeans on my Timbs
Hat low, it's not a weak link in my squad
I'm LL, in too deep, I'm thinking I'm God
Far as rappers, I'm thinking they're frauds
Call 'em all Rubix Cubes cause I really used to think they was hard
Ha! For once trust me, you don't wanna start problems
The pound will make you Eddie Curry with a heart problem
So if you on the block with only a few grams, man
Then you a bird nigga, Toucan Sam
And any beat, I'mma air that, rappers just gotta wear that
Fox Brown should be the only one that can't hear that
Hit you in the spine or the belly, gun on me
I ain't Sticky Fingaz, I ain't leave mine in the telly, smell me?
Thank god he ain't fucking wit that red line
Cause I'll murk any nigga that disrespect mine
If it wasn't Fed time, or lock up or rec time
Dude'll be a Daily News headline
You ain't the best, what memo got sent?
If you got dogs, what kennel they in?
So if you wanna get fresh like a Mentos mint
Then it'll tempt those men with clips longer than Leno's chin
There ain't no type of guts wit you
You Terrell Owens, them niggas that wear eagles
They don't even wanna fuck with you
Me, fam? I was pimping weed dirt
Back when niggas used to rock Simpsons t-shirts
I'll give it to any nigga, I mean any nigga
Big man or skinny nigga, dare a dude tempt me, nigga
Auto or semi, nigga; dump till it's empty, nigga
They don't even want you in New York -- you like Penny, nigga
Check the time -- it's around that hour
Little niggas, they ain't 'round that powder
They ain't super or Luigi or Mario, ain't found that power
Plus they couldn't spit fire if they found that flower
Cowards, know the toys bust loco
While they trying to dap my hand like the Boy's Club logo
And yea that 5 slide and clock
I'm the million dollar baby, but I won't die trying to box
Don't want a piece of the cake, I won't the pie and all
I don't believe 'em when they say that they supplying the raw
You don't move white, you lying, dog
That's a never-ending story without the white flying dog
Son, these dudes is broke, don't know the feeling of bread
They in debt, tampon niggas, still in the red
And the fans keep asking if ya man stopped beefing
I call 'em Mr. Fantastic, tell 'em, "Stop reaching"
[Outro: Killa BH]
Ah-ha, stop reaching!
Killa BH, son!
I'm ready to rock
Yo, ah-ha
When I come through, I'm like...a something
I can't remember
I'm that nice
Like the spice
Ah-ha
I can't even spit right1