[Intro - Joe Budden - talking]
Uh, uh
Ready?
Check me out now
[Verse 1 - Joe Budden]
Come along, c-come, come along
But I don't trust niggas, so make sure you come alone
I hand picked you, you think sensibly
They friends with you, don't need 'em to be friends with me
Come along, I'm a take you to some spots that you might like
But bring shades, you gonna need 'em for the bright lights
Grab a drink, invite dykes that like Vic's
We always end up fightin, cause that's my vice
Come along, c-come, come along
And you'll see how it feels when you sittin on the throne
When you so much better but they act like it ain't known
So if somebody else is on it, it's a temporarily loan
Hard to compete when there ain't no competition
If everybody's the best, why I feel like comp' is missin?
Forced to find inspiration when I never had to
So I go against myself, it's a better battle
Now come along, c-come, come along
Turned up the volume on her favorite song (favorite song)
We got so much in common (except)
Except when it comes to rhymin
She feel like lyrics are so intrusive
But I feel about her, the way she feels about music
She's cute
She don't like the words, she just like the beat and I'm thinkin me too (biatch!)
[Hook - Joe Budden] - w/ ad libs
Let it breathe
Come along, c-come, come along
Can we dim the lights? Let me get into my zone
Come along, c-come, come along
But I don't trust a soul, so make sure you come alone
Let it breathe
[Verse 2 - Joe Budden]
Check it, come along, c-come, come along
And watch these niggas that's doin it all wrong (whoa)
Throwback swag, nigga still doin rims (word)
Still doin throwbacks, you still doin Timbs? (word)
Lookin for a way to save, you ain't earnin no cake
Moved back in with moms, she won't turn you away
Then you all on the blogs, showin off a CL
When it's followed by the K, gotta know it's a mistake (baby)
Benefit of the doubt homie, if that ain't your daughter's car
I suggest you stop rappin about a Audemars
Cause in return, I'm a just call a fraud
Every time I hear a bar about the baller you are
Now listen, come along, c-come, come along
She gonna probably drop her drawers, if she step into my home
She gonna probably be on cock
It's big enough to get Lost in without Jack or John Locke (whoa!)
On the water like an island, thinkin she on the dock
So she puttin in work, I'm thinkin she on the clock
Uh, slow down baby girl, what you tryin to prove? (huh?)
When you live like me, it's funny what one night can do (AH!)
[Hook] - w/ ad libs
[Verse 3 - Joe Budden]
Come along, c-come, come along
Is you niggas out your mind? (nigga!)
Is it hard to recognize when you out your prime?
Maybe they can't imagine livin life without that shine
Walk around Hollywood like you so in demand
But when the labels stop backin nigga, so do the fans
Nigga you ain't a superstar, no allure about you
And when you talk about me, it says more about you
Now come along, c-come, come along
Wonder why when I ain't around niggas change they tone
That's the way it looks
Do they really think whatever they say behind my back'll manage to stay put?
We know the same people, go the same places
From the same hood, can only be so evasive
Come along, c-come, come along
When you're from where I'm from, you're gonna probably need the chrome
It ain't just me, it's like that where we all from
Thought some of them niggas just do it out of boredom
Some just preppin for the day they see a war come
Hangin in the wrong place if you never saw one
Now come along, c-come, come along
I don't know who you done dealt with in the past
Better be self sufficient ma, you don't get a pass
Cause your thighs a little thick and you got a little ass
You lookin for a sugar daddy, then go for it
Twenty somethin years old with nothin to show for it (show for it)
Talkin about she was raised different
Well get your own pockets bitch (biatch), so was I (OH!)
Now really, come along, c-come, come along
I don't call them verses, they similar to poems
Similar to scriptures, similar to pictures
You can stick to rap, what we doin's much bigger (so much bigger)
[Hook] - w/ ad libs
[Outro - Joe Budden - talking] (*echo*)
Huh?
J. Cardim, what up?
New Jerz, what up?
Uh, Slaughterhouse, what up?
