Truth Or Truth Lyrics - Slaughterhouse

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 question 

Fame turned my life upside down 

I guess it was meant to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac 

And that ain't a diss, this way more to me than a diss track 

Jay-Z is God to me 

Nas is God to me! 

Eminem is like B.I.G. and Pac to me 

And if you disagree I hope you bleed hypocrisy! 

And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote 

Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been involved with 

Thank y'all for making my wife a crazier bitch than y'all bitches 

Y'all might've lost me, but y'all win 

And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote 

Now let's talk about the BET Awards 

When Kanye went to the podium for the win 

And mentioned everyone in the same category as him but me and Em 

He said they motivated him 

And normally that would be ammo to hate on him 

But that ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin' 

This new-wave culture is so cultivatin'! 

Where the fuck do I fit in? 

And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote 

I succumb so much to this game I feel sorrow 

I answer more questions about the 40 and Game squabble 

Than I answer questions that I ask myself 

"Are you a good father?", the answer's, "Well 

Fuck this! Royce got a game tomorrow" 

I ain't gotta spell out the offers 

If being famous means speaking to people in offices 

Over being there for your sons and daughters... 

I'm off this... 

I know the last couple of lines kinda fell out of the pocket 

But I don't give a fuck! 

Let me tell you this: 

When was the last time you copped some shit 

Where it actually came out of your pocket? 

Answer that! If I got to answer questions from you 

You got to answer questions from me! 

I'm fucking my whole life up for you, answer this question: 

"What the fuck are you doing for me?", answer that! 

Still I love my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a drunk nigga 

That's just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing up shit but my hands 

And this is just me growing up 

Courtney Artesia, Kino and Vish, please support me I need ya 

But in reality an artist is supposed to be supported by easels 

But in the meanwhile, I'm just supported by evil 

[Verse 2: Joe Budden] 

I'm no longer fuckin' amused 

I mean I addressed this shit on "Cut You Loose" 

How long am I supposed to stick around for this fuckin' abuse? 

Every time I go to leave, I figure "fuck is the use?" 

I endure it for the true fans that covet that new 

Or is that just another fuckin' excuse? 

Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won't mention it, I'll save it 

If you know me than you know a nigga treasure anonymity 

Nigga thought that as a man, you must be kiddin' me 

And I'm starting to feel like my fans are now condemning me 

Listen, I don't owe y'all shit 

Same Joe I am today is the same Joe y'all get 

Y'all will interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worship 

And think that came along with your 20 dollar purchase 

You bought the music, not the nigga that made it 

But let me touch up on that nigga that made it 

If you're judging me on actions then I'll take that L every time 

If you conclude "Joe Budden is a corny mah'fucker" 

Cause all it mean if I'm a corny mah'fucker 

Is the greatest rapper ever's just a corny mah'fucker 

My bad, I'm not as street as you 

But all this time I was being me, not being you 

I get behind that mic, let all my demons through 

Without knowing shit about the people that I'm speaking to 

Add that to me not seeing a reason to 

And that says a lot in a room full of silence, listen... 

At 21 I had a drug problem 

At 31 still drugs is a problem 

But the thing about that pill is it made everything real 

And I felt I needed to see 

Funny thing about it all, I ain't like what I saw 

Now the Lord's voice is in my head like 

"You'll be DEAD soon for questioning me" 

Another lesson for me 

Far greater than whatever I profess it to be 

Cause if left to me, I'd put our eyes in our brains 

We'd over-think what we see and our whole lives would change 

But fuck it, that day had to come 

Who ever knew that I would have a son? 

I coulda guessed it, I was fuckin' like a rabbit 

But I never saw him handle scoliosis like his dad did 

Never knew me and Ronnie would talk again 

Fuck a rhyme, I'm just happy that we talk again 

Who knew that the second I acknowledged you 

You would get terminally ill, be in the hospital 

The thought of you leaving is what fucks with me 

I'm scared to death of getting full custody 

Nigga, I look in the mirror disgustedly 

So how am I supposed to feel the day that he looks up to me? 

I always said you were the worst baby-mother 

I had ex-girl confused with baby-mother 

And there lies my problem with our Creator 

All the times I wanted her black ass dead, you wouldn't take her 

Don't do it now, I need her 

Understand, it don't get no realer 

See how I go to bed with thoughts of a damn killer 

But rather show y'all my girl through these Instagram filters 

Look at her, don't look at me 

Cause if y'all judging, y'all would throw the book at me 

Speakin' of shorty, nah, I'll do that in private 

It might be a little soon for me to let her know how I get 

Shit, and now we right back at one 

Real quick, let me get back to my son 

When a nigga was like 

He said "Dad, I'm weird but I don't have a problem with that" 

And I was like I laughed, and I was like 

"Well, number 1, why do you think you're weird 

And 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 weird 

And I don't have a problem with it because that's me 

And whoever don't like it, they don't have to be around me 

I'm comfortable with me and who I am" 

And right there, that was cold 

In my head I thought "That was bold" 

Illest shit about it all, said that at 10 years-old 

So I could die right now 

I could die right now and feel like he got the most important part of Joe 

Or... better than that... 

I could die right now and feel like he know all he need to know 

Joey 

Royce, what up 

Last night we cried tears of joy 

This morning they were still there 

What's handicap without the wheelchair 

That's what we are, but fuck it... 

We'll be the sacrificial lamb for y'all niggas 

Hate it or love it... 

Leave all of that, b, fuck it... 

[Verse 3: Crooked I] 

Yeah, man 

I kinda feel where my nigga was coming from, you know 

Both my niggas, you know 

Baby-mom was on WorldStar and shit 

You know, talkin' 'bout I don't take care of my junior 

Me and my nigga straight though 

Yo, my little nigga rap 

I just let it be, you know, cause people get their feelings hurt over other shit 

So I just let it go, you know, I ain't have no rebuttal 

But uh when you grew up fucked up 

Nobody's perfect, you know, but I'm perfect for this 

This rap shit, man yeah 

Eastside Long Beach: Atlantic avenue and Hill 

Crooked was a youngster my ghetto attitude was real 

Dumper in the waist in case I had to shoot to kill 

Rocking dumb mics cause I had was stupid skill 

Eastsiders we cypher about a bus bitch 

Some sippin toca vodka, others had the blunt pitched 

A lot of them niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenched 

Others went to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprints 

Long beach I salute ya grind 

Even though you think you I sold out you not saluting mine 

I dont come around much, Im on musics time 

Lost and found I found when Im broke I lose my mind 

So I hustle like Im on a hunger strike 

Without a doubt when I cuff a mic 

I leave a body count like the shottys out 

Cause Im from a group called slaughter 

Rap better than everybody house 

Now they think Im in the game and stuntin 

But Im like an orgasm man, I came from nothing 

Some of you from the burbs but you claim you wasnt 

So lame you struttin, with a cain you frontin 

Fuck all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it 

I was born poor in a ditch, Im rhyming tryna climb up out it 

Tryna avoid a life of crime Im bout it 

Some say Ill be fine without it 

Death around the corner, prison breathing down my neck 

Chasing paper til a nigga wheezing out of breath 

IRS wanna fuck me, I ain't even outta debt 

Said they Young Buck me 

, tryna squeeze me outta checks 

Yeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta checks 

Dont talk to dominics unless you pay ya mommas rent 

With marijuana sent outta town, them dollars spent 

My own fam wanna grab the steel and harm me 

But I got the nuts to kill an army 

Word to Killa army, man all them killers adore me 

BET red carpet, the steel was on me 

To put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldnt feel good 

Serena crip walking at the Olympics 

Im still hood 

Still me, til my candle is blown 

So many secrets I only told to a glass of patron 

Half of my fathers family died of cancer alone 

He called me sick, I didnt answer the phone 

How does it feel to know that your son doesnt care 

Cause you wasnt there, life wasnt fair 

I look at steps in the wrong direction, another stare 

I swear, just the other muthafucking night dawg 

Like niggas, niggas rolled in front of my studio on my kids life 

Nahmean, I ran through the fucking studio to my office grabbed that 3.57 thang man 

Came out waving, Im bout to bust, the police pass by 

My little brothers told me I needed to chill 

Nahmean, this is what I do man, this is the life I live for real dawg 

This ain't no muthafuckin rap music 

Just the other night I coulda killed a nigga man 

Nahmean, I wouldnt be here rapping about this shit 

Think about it man 

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz] 

My grandmoms left me 

, father dont exist 

Baby moms stress me, 

my momma got a cyst 

My older son love football and the little nigga hands is mean 

But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he could be in there but still 

Cheering for his team 

My youngest son got nerve issues, sometimes he cry to me 

Im looking at him like its not you fault 

You was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his everyday anxiety 

I worked at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to fire me 

I wasnt fit to lift boxes I quit 

Dont put me in that box when I spit 

My life wasnt too muthafucking fly for me 

Wasnt too muthafucking fly for me 

From the lobby huffing and puffing running from robbery 

To Crooked I, Royce Da 59, Joe Budden, 

homie from the Goodie Mob and me carving artistry 

Celebrating escaping poverty 

Ashy knees and no socks 

Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other than that 

Liver works and government sent me my yellow cheese in a box 

Yall ain't have that yellow cheese in a box 

Last night I cried tears of joy 

But the other night I cried tears my boy 

No longer here I cant hear his voice 

I guess upstairs they playing dealers choice 

Popped a pill with Joe Im sippin clear with Royce 

Crook light a cigar nigga 

My little homie just hit the pen 

Went in a young adult and coming out a senior citizen 

And them crackers just denied me 

Fuck dawg I cant even sneak a visit in 

I ain't hustlin no more if yall listening 

Yall niggas only get the music man 

Yall don't know what be going on with a nigga day to day 

I mean shit I ain't complaining or nothing 

Like a nigga stand on his own two and hold it down 

But its realer than you think nigga 

You think I give a fuck about a rap list 

I just left my condo, hopped up in my car Im on my way to fuck an actress 

I dont need yall to remind me bout my pen and pad gift 

ad-libs subtract your wack spit 

Multiply my visits to Chase divide mad chips among 3 other niggas 

Nah nigga this ain't no rap clique 

This is a muthafucking takeover 

I want another Range Rover 

I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother became sober 

My uncle fading from that needle though 

Found out he fully blown a couple weeks ago 

My aunt tested negative but its the same result 

Cuz she gon die on the same day he stop breathing yo 

To know me ain't to love me 

Nah, to know me is to know me 

Cause you ain't got to like me but respect that I ain't phony 

Not a nominee for Tonys or Oscars for my uh balony 

What you see is what you get 

Hope you getting what you see cause what you seeing is a threat 

Come at me with indirects, I ain't gon write a song about you 

Imma knee you in your neck 

And then write a song about how I just beat you half to death 

Dont play with my little niggas 

Im just a grown ass man tryna feed my family through the talent God gave me 

Honestly I dont care if you hate me 

But dont fuck with my money 

Anything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be 

House gang 

YAOWA!