Ventilation Songtext
von Joe Budden

Time goes by
Puffing on lie
Hoping that it gets me by
It got a nigga going crazy
A mad kind of nigga gon′ crazy
Look

Niggas wanted to kill me
Got locked up and never found me
So my goal is to catch a charge in that same county
Picture me getting bumped for a silly hand-off
The bullpens fucked up just as Willie Randolph See
I could pop a few nickel plated glocks too
It's easier to kill niggas than it is not to


I let the pot brew
Then the plot grew
It′s the labels job to label, you don't fit it and they'll drop you
Finally made a move on something I been saw
Sometimes you got to lose the fight if you trying to win the war
I′m focused on tomorrow
I′m done seeing my friends in the rearview thinking
We really closer than we are

Fuck the record label
No relation or correlation, all my admiration
Turned into aggravation they say
How you sit so long when you spew classics?
I tell niggas I can't understand it, that′s blue magic
The rap game as is, either you on some snap shit
Or plain ol' stuck in a different decade like the brat is
I hear niggas joints and take it personal, why
Now everybody want to spit about their personal lives?
Before that was non-existent

Me, I′m an addict with an addiction for anything
That seems to cause friction
Maybe I'm in a relationship with bad Karma
With a past as somber, maybe I attract drama, yeah
Undoubtedly my life is on some VH1 shit
Just adding some salt and pepper to reality while
Other artists is obsessed with more toys
Like Lex, Coupe, Beemers, and Benz′s, they lost boys


Uh, I kept brushing off my shoulder 'til the chip was going
Left the Benz at the dealers till the kit was on
I don't feel niggas songs
So while y′all at the awards
I′m loading up on ratchets, that's the tip ′em off
Flow is on acid, I swear I would have the game mastered
If I wasn't so busy carrying baggage
Calling god a bastard
Calvin look way different in person
Then they had him looking in his casket

I′m looking in his casket like he had no face
I was at a loss for words like fiasco gate
So I figured I'd say a prayer for him, got on my knees quick
And realized I don′t ever pray until I need shit
My soul achin', trying to stay low maintenance
I'm stuck in hell waiting on blessings with no patience

I done made the Ave′ hot
Been had and stabbed, shot
Waiting on my jackpot
Always been a have-not
Always been an underdog little guy still try
′Cause I think I'm a cash cow, they treat me like I′m milk dry
Juggling nickel and dimes, I'm walking a fine line
Sometimes you got to just breath, maybe give time, time

Give me a sign, kind of shocked he won′t
See I want another baby but my pockets don't
Normally that wouldn′t bother me
'Til I wake up and get the paper and read
That some rich nigga won the lottery
Young, black and shameless
Shorty keep beefing about the same shit
Almost like yelling's her second language
Why do I entertain it?

Listen, you been arguing about everything
For ages, do it ever change shit?
We end up egging each other for the whole week
It′s a lot of men in this world baby, you chose me like I chose you
We′ve been rocking for years, you signed up
You're not a victim, you′re a volunteer, it weird
You're not a cheater, on occasion still fuck a bitch
Who knows why, maybe just to feel coveted

I′m me, she's her, we′ve both had enough of it but won't leave
We the only ones who put up with it
In all areas of life, my stock crashing
Wishing all these old motherfuckers would stop rapping
Trying to be tasteful
Not mad or rageful
Not sad or hateful
Not complacent and praiseful