Artist: Joe Budden Album: Padded Room Song: Blood on the Wall Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro: Joe Budden] Whoo! (Uhh, welcome) Ohhh! I'd like to welcome e'rybody, welcome e'rybody (yo y-yo yo yo) To the muh'fuckin Padded Room (yo, y-yo, yo) [Joe Budden] How many niggaz fell victim to the streets Rest in peace young nigga, it's a heaven for a G I'd be a liar if I told you that I never thought of death My nigga, we the last ones left (l-look) l-look (l-look) I said - how many niggaz fell victim to the streets Rest in peace young nigga, it's a heaven for It'd be a lie if I told you that I never thought of death (l-look look) My nigga, we the last ones left; but life goes on And I ain't gon' stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall! L-look, look, look, look Maybe it started with the rims on the whip Uh, I lost the Hummer, push the Benz through the strip But I'll swim with the fish before I lend niggaz shit Cause personally, they ain't worth the phlegm that I spit That's why, sometimes I think the end's comin quick My old ass father shot twins out his dick So, if they so happen to come up without a older brother Won't be alone cause comin up at least they'll have each other At least they'll have one another cause life's a muh'fucker But while I'm here my only job is not to see 'em suffer Through dope boys, shootouts, stick-ups and undercovers The world is full of suckers but don't worry, I'm your buffer Buffer, like I shoulda been for BJ Well he never listened to nothin we say (It was) half past 12, midnight on a weekday Not even 20 hours past his release date (lease date) This nigga hit him up four times, one kick the heart And that kicked my heart Call his pops, niggaz pick the phone up So he can come find his son lyin in his own (blood) blood On that block that we ran through House we grew up in, corner we would post on Shot dead in front of niggaz we would be with So how the fuck nobody see shit? (nigga) And so I'm there to be a brother to his brother Lucky Cause in the belly of the beast I know this shit get ugly Get on my knees and have a convo with the Lord above me Maybe sometimes I hear him wrong, I think he sayin "Fuck me" Only he could judge me, care less what they thinkin of me Cause honestly I'd be aight if no one ever love me (love me) I write "I only fear Joe" in blood Smeared slow on my brain by my earlobe (earlobe) And I ain't gon' stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall! Y-yo, yo, yo All I tried do is raise the bar See my, weeks is scabbed up, days are scarred Still I love to see a muh'fucker hate from far More they talk 'bout me the more I pray for y'all I mean, I don't get how Prodigy gon' acknowledge me When the nigga 'bout as big as an apostrophe (ohh!) For him to possibly think that he is hot as me is far from a prophecy, it's more like a mockery Used to be hip-hop to me, 'fore you bombarded me with everything ass like sodomy, it's gotta be drugs Four-fifths and snubs, what's that about? Nigga you can't lift the guns that you rappin 'bout (ohh!) But real talk, I can't front on your old shit Now you just old as shit! Not old and sick 'Stead of holdin my dick, here's a better way (dawg) Never mind me, worry about your Medicaid ... Shit's so unfair Nigga beats carried yo' ass most of your career Wanna blog, here's a reason - I FUCKS "Murda Music" Anybody ever diss this nigga is still breathin Jay-Z, Saigon, Nas already peeled him 2Pac, he ain't alive but you ain't kill him 50 signs the bum only cause where he was from Put his stamp on a nigga and still nobody feels him Not a murderer, a gangsta, robber Washed up 90's nigga, now a gangsta blogger Me that, underground flow strike like the pound blow Your sound's old, not even worth a download I would have niggaz hunt you like a hound's nose Problem is you pussy, the whole town knows So why let the body count grow for some fiend-out nigga now starrin in a clown show (clown show) And I ain't gon' stop 'til a nigga see blood on the wall!