Letras:Joe Budden. Broken Wings Freestyle.

The voices ain't leave yet,
they just gettin' they feet wet
Eyes red, I'm up, ain't been to sleep yet
Damn near two days, ain't even eat yet
If you don't wanna bounce, 'least take a little recess
And still I'm faced with the bullshit
Feelin' like Willy D, Scarface and Bushwick
Dog, just when I gather its dead
I gotta knock on wood like Hank Gathers head
When I make small steps toward making it global
My tight knit circle turns into a oval
Filled with motha fuckas just pretendin' they know you
These snakes in the grass'll do whatever to coax you
Since they wanna hem you quick
I walk around like a Ginsu's tip
And that's just to get a mental grip
You don't feel what the pencil scripts
Then eight times outta ten you ain't been through shit
When you hear Joe you hear the conviction and diction
That open emotion, devotion is different
Real talk of when he ain't have a pot to piss in
He ain't have a car not one rock to glisten
I'm giving 'em non-fiction,
conning his addictions
Ya'll got the easy job, just listen
I do it for my folk and those of another pigment
A little food for thought, you feelin' malnutrition
But you don't hear a peep outta me
About the black face goin' on and the sheep leadin' sheep
It's deep, so I try to stay grounded like dad
Must be in City Island, I'm surrounded by crabs
Was once tight, grew apart for dollars
Was on the same panel, now he's Star and Barbara
Two different views, two different lifestyles
I think 'long the way one of us got confused
Look, you a hustla, still attracted to the scene
Still doin' shit I gave up at sixteen
You won't get a job, believin' your own lies
You rationalize by sayin' you pursing your dreams
You damn near thirty nigga you ain't got cream
Can't take care of you when you worried 'bout your team
My dude, want a hand out, wait in line
But the clock's still tickin' man you playin' with time,
It's so sweet
Thought I was fucked up with no shoes 'til I met me a nigga with no feet
Tried to help niggaz, some niggaz I couldn't
That's my mom in me, I love niggaz I shouldn't
Dudes wanna shoot 'em 'til he nailed
Some wanna threaten me, ruin my health
Let me teach you a little something 'bout depression
Ain't shit you could do to me I ain't already thought about doing to myself
I'm the voice for the youth that's living with no reason
Fuck record sales, I give 'em something to believe in
If your day starts in that broken home
Though we never met, 'least they feel like they not alone
Like I was back when I was tryna' find dip
The tsunami came through my hood in nine six
And tried to murder dog,
I took a little dive
Then I got on my surfin board and kept slidin'
Feel like A-Rod, some say his time's up
Boo a nigga at home, yup I'm in my prime But
he by far the best player on the team
And then turn around, drop 'em to the bottom of the lineup
Should get traded, but he don't wanna move
'Cause this the only city he got somethin' to prove
And that's why I'm seen with heaters
'Cause you can't be the man when you on the same team as Jeter Ya dig
it's like the game ain't gettin' suitable
Makin' me so sick I need Chicken Noodle Soup
Rappers flyin' high, then got suicidal
Imitate Jim Jones, end up like Cory Lidle
I married hip hop, ignored what some was tellin' me
I started hearin' rumors of infidelity,
I ain't divorce 'er
All the other dudes is so wack that I aint even feel a little jealousy