Nba lyrics

Artist  : Joe Budden 
Song : Nba



 Send "Nba" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

Shoulda never put me on this beat
Okay, yeah,
normal baller
We back on tizzy, on top
Jump
Off, Dub B, Jersey
Stand up
GO!

Jump
off you rap guys is a joke
I'm here to take
the scoring title without the green light from my
coach
Man, don't make me have to smack your
lineup
I'm Michael Jordan y'all Harold Minor's
that rap vagina
All black ski mask, gloves,
tuck the thing
Drive slow, lights out like "I
love this game"
I live this y'all paint that
pic
And like Magic I'm starting to believe
y'all dudes ain't that sick
Might see ya boy
scooping up a bird to get knowledge
Number one
draft pick and I skipped college
Snakes in the
trenches I peep those, get injured
End up like
Grant Hill on the bench in your street
clothes
Talk about he real, how he quick with
a glock
But like Kurt Thomas he ain't good for
shit on the block
See the gleam from the
shoes
Man, I don't mean to seem
rude
Gunshots do you like Vancouver make your
team move
(Let's Go!)

[Chorus:]
It's
gone be the NBA never NBC (Yeah)
Rookie of the
year slash MVP (Rap suckas, we back)
Never
channel 4
We handle the 4
It's the number
one draft pick (Yours truly)
Let your gat
spit, nigga
[Repeat]

Can't treat me
like a sucka
Gather up your five, man meet me
at the Rucker
Put the heat to you
fuckers
Half Man-Half Amazing with a clip in
my boot
My 4-5 will make you "Skip To My Lou",
think about it
Understand when I was younger I
was all on my own
So when I said 3-2 I wasn't
calling a zone
Nice truck, nice house and
chain
I car jacked you like Shaq shooting a
three man get outta your Range
This is regular
hood shit
I put Don Cheaney under the arm and
show him how to make a good nick
If you wack,
you need to probably write
Either that or quit
it, throw in the chair like you Bobby Knight
I
work damn hard
But don't think I can't
rob
Can't pitch, I still handle the rock like
Shammgod
Still hurt you cowards
Still see
me merking them Prowlers
And know they still
call me Dirk in Dallas
I'm that
nigga

[Chorus]

Man I kill lame
queers
It still ain't clear
Never saving
the tech like Bill Laimbeer
I got tools for
rilly
With shells that make your temple hot
and I ain't talking 'bout a school in Philly
I
ain't a selfish player
Man, I help your weight
up
Cuz only Riders in this game now is myself
and Isaiah
Listen, you gettin dissed
While
I'm screwing these miss's
I'm on cruise
control you still moving your pivot
But I'll
show you how mean this crook be
You and your
dogs' like the Houston Comets, a team fulla
pussy's
Creep
It ain't a game no more, it's
a sport
If you ain't got heart to play then
stay off the court

[Chorus]

Game
over!