Throwback: Dessert for Thought- Joe Budden ft. Pusha T, Styles P

[S2J]

Styles P

Dark forces, get on the level

Cause you might see an iced out cross on the Devil

Illuminati and Masons, what are we facing?

See you at the crossroad, that's Vacation

Shit is like Fright Night, get you a Night Light

Two blunts, Zeitgeist, remind me it's Christ like

Now niggas wanna look like women

Tight pants, costume jewels

I guess their CEO might bend 'em

God bless Pac, but they ain't got thug like feelings

God bless Big, but they don't know the every day struggle

I keep it thorough, everywhere I'm bubbling, you bubble gum

Chew you up, spit you out, nigga, cause I'm troublesome

And if they lyrical then what the fuck am I?

The maker of miracles, every couple of lines

Parallel lines in my soul in my mind

Make the jewels unfold every time of the rhyme

Use respect, and I'm spectacular

Audio fucking up your cardiovascular

Lyrically spit shit, flip like a spatula

Married to the game, and you just a bachelor

SP and the Mouse in this bitch

And I want it quiet as a mouse in this bitch

Burn you in your car and your house is the shit

Don't ever say you hard if I ain't bout for the shit

 

[S2J]

Pusha

It's like a never ending story, I'm here for my glory

The engines too loud, these haters can't ignore me

Feeling like a legend, anyone that came before me

Drug dealer, posing all this mother fuckin' jewelry

Came from the crack house, back room, black out

Smoke hit they lungs, make 'em UFC tap out

No plan B, it was nothin' else to map out

So we throw stones while we living in this glass house

It's been a minute so they ask where the fire went

My kitchen clean, but I still got the Pilot lit

Made a fortune outta fumes, my Mcguiver shit

Reality TV, before Survivor bitch

Yuuuck, put our lives on display

Who's thinkin bout tomorrow we ain't promised today

This rap game fickle, we ain't promised to play

The last of the greats, pay homage to me

 

[S2J]

Budden

If my past had a encore, it be like a onslaught

A lot of niggas died, it's too many to mourn for

I'm thinkin bout my youth, us as little kids

Am I wrong for having thoughts Bishop Eddie would long for?

I got decade old wounds that are still bleeding

That chapter of my life is closed, yet y'all still read it

Straight face on, pretending to feel decent

Casket shopping for a loved one that is still breathing

Swear that shit got in the way of Summer

Avoiding calendars, since all your days were numbered

Laid out in the bed, can barely sit up

Those were your last breaths, I was mistaking for hiccups

Y'all don't get the picture, when your medicine is liquor

I'm talkin phone ringing, being too afraid to pick up

I know you in a better place and that joy is felt

I learned when death calls it won't leave a voice mail

You would be proud, I'm due to be caked up

Wanna make your dreams come true? Gotta wake up

Groupie niggas I don't see how you deal with it

Broke and starving, but clinging to your Meal Ticket

Broke hustlers debate that trash

Back and forth to they vacant stash

Still in all I know a few that'll make that cash

Quick flip, even Rex Ryan ain't lose the weight that fast

Y'all should treat me like royalty

Last of a dying breed that puts money and power behind loyalty

Careful, that bitch shit'll rub off

Me, I'd rather die with my balls than have to live with 'em cut off

Long winded, be patient enough to hear 'em

I'll give you the jewels if you brave enough to wear 'em

But know before you swallow it up

Food for thoughts only as important as what'll follow it up

 

[yellowtapesport]

Pusha killed that shit