Just the good old boys
Never meanin' no harm
Some of you mother fuckers know me
You say, "That's Joe Bruce, my neighborhood homie
Trying to come up, trying to be a rap star
But his basement tapes ain't goin' far"
I ain't trying to be famous. I ain't trying to be rich
All I'm trying to do it dip my dick in your bitch
See me after dark, rim shootin' hoop
Or at home, gangin' beats from the Lifers Group
Yeah, I'm jackin' beats, I ain't afraid to say
Them mother fuckers rottin' in jail any mother fuckin' way
But I don't need to hear you say it
You don't like my shit, then don't fuckin' play it
"Hey, yo, J, your tape is weak"
Now your eye's swelled shut, and you're missin' teeth
This is a homemade mother fuckin' basement track
I ain't a super star, so get the fuck off my nut sack
Hold up, hold up, hold up
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