เนื้อเพลง Give Me a Reason - Joe Budden

Whoahhhhhhhhh, whoa
Ladies and gentlemen, you now rockin with the best
(Geah) Jersey City, stand up
Patterson, stand up
Off top.. Just Blaze!

[Joe Budden]
Hold up n*gga, slow up n*gga
Don't start a war unless your dough's up, n*gga
Know what n*gga? Joe's up n*gga
Y'all shouldn't cry about it, grow up n*gga
Guess what y'all? I know magic
I could make your pulse dissapear and no hat trick
Death threats - it ain't phase me
When I bring the T-Mac through the Rucker y'all, it ain't Tracy
Sewed up n*gga, low cut n*gga
So keep talin bout your wrists froze up n*gga
You might see 30 whips roll up n*gga
We be at the pawn shop givin your Rol' up n*gga
Just wanted to make that known, you seen _New Jersey Drive_
Round here, leave that Maybach home
Before we vick that homes, we be on y'all jerks
You'll find out the hard way if your On*Star works, cause

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
I don't, need a reason to bust my guns
So don't, give me reason to bust my guns
You might, be the reason I bust my gun
(Pa-pow, pa-pow - pa-pow, pa-pow)

[Joe Budden]
'Til my day's up n*gga, stay up n*gga
Play Tony Montana, get your face cut n*gga
That goes out to all of you play thug n*ggaz
How you want it, long nose or the trey snub n*gga?
Return and die dog, if I start clappin in your crib
Nah I ain't tryin to turn the lights off
Trapped on the chain, got the jewels and cape
Be like Jared, Subways made him lose his weight, but look
I'm bout gettin money for all races
Only oldie but goodie I know is small faces
Wait, make you sure you heard right; woulda been put the hit out
But I ain't tryin to get my third strike
Lace up n*gga, say what n*gga?
Your Maybelline raps that you make-up n*gga
Wake up n*gga, stakes up n*gga
For all my locked-down and my cased-up n*ggaz, cause

[Chorus]

[Joe Budden]
Who's that n*gga? New cat n*gga
Don't disrespect, don't do that n*gga
Hate to hear the sound of the tool clap n*gga
Dual strap n*gga when I do black n*ggaz
First hand with a three-eighty kickback
Brains on your lap dog, babysit that
Look, it's my turf, get up off the stoop now
I'm Omar Epps, who got the "Juice" now?
Street love n*gga, G's up n*gga
You lookin for a loan on your re-up n*gga
Haters might wanna put hollows in ya
When you're young black spendin like a lotto winner y'know
I'm grown up now, I'm done with Jake
When I say pounds y'all I'm talkin bout London cake
I can serve it to you uncut or somethin baked
Hope you ready for me folks, cause I'm comin your way, cause

[Chorus] - fades out