Slaughterhouse - Truth or Truth Pt.1 Lyrics
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]I'm stressed out so much I'm like, "Why stress it? "Am I selfish for asking myself"Would you rather count money or count blessings? "Now that's a wild questionFame turned my life upside downI guess it was meant to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-TacAnd that ain't a diss, this way more to me than a diss trackJay-Z is God to meNas is God to me!Eminem is like B.I.G. and Pac to meAnd if you disagree I hope you bleed hypocrisy!And this will be the realest shit I ever wroteShoutout to all the crazy *****es I've been involved withThank y'all for making my wife a crazier ***** than y'all *****esY'all might've lost me, but y'all winAnd this will be the realest shit I ever wroteNow let's talk about the BET AwardsWhen Kanye went to the podium for the winAnd mentioned everyone in the same category as him but me and EmHe said they motivated himAnd normally that would be ammo to hate on himBut that ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin'This new-wave culture is so cultivatin'Where the ***** do I fit in?And this will be the realest shit I ever wroteI succumb so much to this game I feel sorrowI answer more questions about the 40 and Game squabbleThan I answer questions that I ask myself"Are you a good father? ", the answers, "Well***** this! Royce got a game tomorrow"I ain't gotta spell out the offersIf being famous means speaking to people in officesOver being there for your sons and daughtersI'm off thisI know the last couple of lines kinda fell out of the pocketBut I don't give a *****! Let me tell you this:When was the last time you cop some shit where it actually came out of your pocket?Answer that!If I gotta answer questions from youYou gotta answer questions from me!"I'm *****ing my whole life up for you? " Answer this question:"What the ***** are you doing for me? " Answer that!Still I love my fans, even though you all looking me like I'm just this drunk niggaThat's just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing up shit but my handsAnd this is just me growing upCourtney Artesia, Kino and Fish, please support me I need yaBut in reality an artist is supposed to be supported by easelsBut in the meanwhile, I'm just supported by evil[Verse 2: Joe Budden]Wattup Royce, you inspire meAnd I picked you for the recordI mean, I'm no longer *****in' amusedI mean I addressed this shit on "Cut You Loose"How long am I supposed to stick around for this *****in' abuse?Every time I go to leave, I figure "***** is the use? "I endure it for the true fans that covered that newOr is that just another *****in' excuse?Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won't mention it, I'll save itIf you know me than you know a nigga treasure anonymityNigga thought that as a man, you must be kiddin' meAnd I'm starting to feel like my fans are now condemning meListen, I don't owe y'all shitSame Joe I am today is the same Joe y'all getY'all will interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worshipAnd think that came along with your 20 dollar purchaseYou bought the music, not the nigga that made itBut let me touch up on that nigga that made itIf you're judging me on actions then I'll take that L every timeIf you conclude "Joe Budden is a corny mu'*****er"Cause all it mean if I'm a corny mu'*****erIs the greatest rapper ever's just a corny mu'*****erMy bad, I'm not as street as youBut all this time I was being me, not being youI get behind that mic, let all my demons throughWithout knowing shit about the people that I'm speaking toAdd that to me not seeing a reason toAnd that says a lot in a room full of silence, listenAt 21 I had a drug problemAt 31 still drugs is a problemBut the thing about that pill is it made everything realAnd I felt I needed to seeFunny thing about it all, I ain't like what I sawNow the lord's voice is in my head like"You'll be DEAD soon for questioning me"Another lesson for meFar greater than whatever I profess it to beCause if left to me, I'd put our eyes in our brainsWe'd over-think what we see and our whole lives would changeBut ***** it, that day had to comeWho ever knew that I would have a son?I coulda guessed it, I was *****in' like a rabbitBut I never saw him handle scoliosis like his dad didNever knew me and Ronnie would talk again***** a rhyme, I'm just happy that we talk againWho knew that the second I acknowledged youYou would get terminally I'll, be in the hospitalThe thought of you leaving is what *****s with meI'm scared to death of getting full custodyNigga, I look in the mirror disgustinglySo how am I supposed to feel the day that he looks up to me?I always said you were the worst baby-motherI had ex-girl confused with baby-motherAnd there lies my problem with our creatorAll the times I wanted her black ass dead, you wouldn't take herDon't do it now, I need herUnderstand, it don't get no realerSee how I go to bed with thoughts of a damn killerBut rather show y'all my girl through these Instagram filtersLook at her, don't look at meCause if y'all judging, y'all would throw the book at meSpeakin' of shorty, nah, I'll do that in privateIt might be a little soon for me to let her know how I getShit, and now we right back at oneReal quick, let me get back to my sonWhen a nigga was likeHe said "Dad, I'm weird... but I don't have a problem with that"And I was like haha... I laughed, and I was like"Well, number 1, why do you think you're weirdAnd number 2, why don't you have a problem with that? "And he looked me in my eyes and he was like"Well, I say I'm weird, number 1, because I know I'm weirdAnd I don't have a problem with it because that's meAnd whoever don't like it, they don't have to be around meI'm comfortable with me and who I am"And right there, that was coldIn my head I thought That was boldIllest shit about it all, said that at 10 years-oldSo I could die right nowI could die right now and feel like he got the most important part of JoeOr, better than thatI could die right now and feel like he know all he need to knowJoeyRoyce, what upLast night we cried tears of joyThis morning they were still thereWhat's handicap without the wheelchairThat's what we are, but ***** itWe'll be the sacrificial lamb for y'all niggasHate it or love itLeave all of that, b, ***** it[Verse 3: Crooked I]Yeah man, I kinda feel where my nigga was coming fromBoth my niggasYou knowBaby moms was on Worldstar n shitYa know, talk about I take care of my juniorMe and my niggas straight thoughYo, my little nigga rapI just let it be ya know cause people get their feelings hurt over other shit soI just let it go you knowI ain't have no rebuttalBut err, when you grew up *****ed upNobody's perfect ya'knowBut I'm perfect for thisThis rap shit manEastside long beach, Atlantic avenue and hillCrooked was a youngster my ghetto attitude was realDumper in the waist in case I had to shoot to killRocking dumb mics cause I had was stupid skillEastsiders we cypher about a bus *****Some sippin' toca vodka, others had the blunt pitchedA lot of them niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenchedOthers went to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprintsLong beach I salute ya grindEven though you think you I sold out you not saluting mineI don't come around much, I'm on music's timeLost and found I found when I'm broke I lose my mindSo I hustle like I'm on a hunger strikeWithout a doubt when I cuff a micI leave a body count like the shotty's outCause I'm from a group called slaughterRap better than everybody houseNow they think I'm in the game and stuntin'But I'm like an orgasm man, I came from nothingSome of you from the burbs but you claim you wasn'tSo lame you struttin', the cain you frontin'***** all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about itI was born poor in a ditch, I'm rhyming tryna climb up out itTryna avoud a life of crime I'm 'boutSome say I'll be fine without itBut I kinda doubt itDeath around the corner, prison breathing down my neckChasing paper til a nigga wheezing out of breathIRS wanna ***** me, I ain't even outta debtSaid they Young Buck me, tryna squeeze me outta checksYeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta checksDon't talk to dominic's unless you pay ya mommas rentWith marijuana sent outta town, them dollars spentMy own fam wanna grab the steel and harm meBut I got the nuts to kill an armyWord to Killa army, man all them killers adore meBET red carpet, the steel was on meTo put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldn't feel goodSerena crip walking at the Olympics I'm still hoodStill me, til my candle is blownSo many secrets I only told to a glass of patronHalf of my fathers family died of cancer aloneHe called me sick, I didn't answer the phoneHow does it feel to know that your son doesn't careCause you wasn't there, life wasn't fairI look at steps in the wrong direction, another stareYeah mutha*****a yeahI swear, just the other mutha*****ing night dawgLike niggas, niggas rolled in front of my studio on my kids lifeNah'mean, I ran through the *****ing studio to my office grabbed that 3.57 thang manCame out waving, I'm bout to bust, the police pass byMy little brothers told me I needed to chillNah'mean, this is what I do man, this is the life I live for real dawgThis ain't no mutha*****in' rap musicJust the other night I coulda killed a nigga manNah'mean, I wouldn't be here rapping about this shitThink about it man[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]My grandmom's left me, father don't existBaby moms stress me, my momma got a cystMy older son love football and the little nigga hands is meanBut he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he could be in there but stillCheering for his teamMy youngest son got nervous, sometimes he cry to meI'm looking at him like it's not you faultYou was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his everyday anxietyI worked at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to fire meI wasn't fit to lift boxes I quitDon't put me in that box when I spitMy life wasn't too mutha*****ing fly for meWasn't too mutha*****ing fly for meFrom the lobby huffing and puffing running from robberiesTo Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9?, Joe Budden, homie from the goodie mob and me carving artistryCelebrating escaping povertyAshy knees and no socksChinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other than thatLiver works and government sent me yellow cheese in boxYa'll ain't have that yellow cheese in a boxLast night I cried tears of joyBut the other night I cried tears my boyNo longer here I can't hear his voiceI guess upstairs they playing dealers choicePopped a pill with Joe I'm sippin' clear with RoyceCrook light a cigar niggaMy little homie just hit the penWent in a younger dodi, came out a senior citizenAnd them crackers just denied me***** dawg I can't even sneak a visit inI ain't hustlin' no more if y'all listeningYa'll niggas only get the music manYa'll know what be going on with a nigga day to dayI mean shit I ain't complaining or nothingLike a nigga stand on his own two and hold it downBut it's realer than you think niggaYou think I give a ***** about a rap listI just left my condo, hopped up in my car I'm on my way to ***** an actressI don't need y'all to remind me bout my pen and pad giftAnd how my ad-libs subtract your wack spitMultiply my visits to chase divide my among 4 other niggasWho spazz quickNah nigga this ain't no rap cliqueThis is a mutha*****ing takeoverI want another Range RoverI got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother become soberMy uncle fading from that needle thoughFound out he fully blown a couple weeks agoMy aunt tested negative but it's the same resultBut she gon die on the same day he stop breathing yoTo know me ain't to love meNah, to know me is to know meCause you ain't got to like me but respect that I ain't phonyNot a nominee for Yony's or Oscars for my uh balonyWat you see is what you getHope you getting what you see cause what you seeing is a threatCome at me with indirect's, I ain't gon write a song about youI'm a knee you in your neckAnd write a song about how I just beat ya to deathDon't play with my little niggasI'm just a grown ass man tryna feed my family through the talent God gave meHonestly I don't care if you hate meBut don't ***** with my moneyAnything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that beHouse gangYAOWA!
