Joell Ortiz ft. Joe Budden, Royce Da 5’9, Crooked I – Move On Remix (Download + Lyrics)
It’s always good when these 2 link up for a track. Real laid back smooth joint, they both came nice, and the song seems to get better every time I hear it. The video above is from Joe Budden TV, Joell and Joe are discussing how the song should be structured, and they have some differences.
POST UPDATE: This song came out a month ago, but it was just Joell, and Budden. Now Royce Da 5’9 and Crooked I added verses to the track, but Joell and Budden’s verses are still the same. Added the lyrics to Royce and Crooked’s verses, but there is still some errors, so give me time and I’ll try to fix em up.
Joell Ortiz ft. Joe Budden, Royce Da 5’9, Crooked I – Move On (Remix)
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Joell Ortiz ft. Joe Budden – Move On (Original)
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Joell Ortiz ft. Joe Budden, Royce Da 5’9, and Crooked I – Move On Remix Lyrics
Joell Ortiz:
No I don’t respond with answers that fit a script
So the repetition make a nigga flip
We in the game of smoke and mirrors
Those engineering a bigger spliff
Blowing circles out they mouth gettin praised but the shit is shift
I never lived a myth, if i said it i did it
Never alleged, word to dead i grip the 5th
Made my housing tenant a strip
Moving medicine and nicks
When i seen em comin i jetted from them pricks
And still to this day though she clean i wish my mommy never sniffed
The hurt is making me better with this gift
I’m live with this ink and
You can die in a blink and
Y’all got the nerve to ask me why do i drink em
Mutha fucka sometimes i cry when I’m thinkin
Y’all aint there when them tears bein dried by the sink
It was cold in the winter
My community centers who gave me dinner
I aint mind my table chairs gave me splinters
Set up to be a loser but was made to be a winner
If they paint hip hop I bet my face be in the picture
If they wrote a rap bible bet my name be in the scriptures
If shorty say I’m her idol bet her face be in my zipper
I came a long way from staples in my skrilla
Stains on my pants, hardly had a cut
They ladies aint wanna dance so the house party’s would suck
All my friends on the wall I’m in the hall with a cup
Nah i aint complaining just tellin y’all what it is
So if ya goin threw it now just know that another kid
Made something outta nothing, well I’m frontin i was never nothing
Older ladies use to tell my mother “Ain’t he something”
I look a lot of you cats and laugh
Cuz im the shit man and yall aint even passin gas
When I spit I’m the definition of mastered craft
And all yall ask about is aftermath
Mutha fucka move on
Joe Budden:
I gotta give my own interview
Since niggas that do my interviews
Focus on whatever’s minuscule
Or paint me as a cynical
But the canvas will limit you
You cant go beyond what there’s no limit to
If i think hip hop is dead i think its being revived
And that comes from me being inside
Where the demons get bye, see em goodbye
If I’m vehement, here’s why
Come from hearin it, seein venomous lies
So the beast in me cries cuz when its all you hear
Shit could overbear, just when the over in air
So i try to think straight cuz when you stare in the rear
Rest in peace Stewart Shakir, nigga yea
I’m on another label not that other label
That means its no longer my problem its theirs
Some say its a conspirac’ (conspiracy)
I say if everybody on the thrown thats just more motive to kill the heir
Ask me bout pump it up and I’mma think you sheep
Or you must not know I’m deep
I’m so off of music so y’all get soundscan every week
Me, I just got my lil man every week
Jersey city loves me despite yall beliefs
Cuz they was baby stepping i showed em how to leap
Ask me about swag, imma change the topic
To lyrics and then brag
Plus look at you like a fag
I love everybody dont ask me who i beef with
They burned the bridge but they was standin underneath it
I’m on my grind benjamin huntin
Was old since i was young
Call me Benjamin Button/Budden
Stop using slang just for you to be cool
Cuz i go back to when it was cool to be you
I’m a hero, no I mean im Hiro from Heroes
Y’all chase zeros
Muhfucka I just got finished hatin me feelin like a zero
They play Di Nero never been there though
So before your next thought understand
Theres much more to me than the man?
Either that or move on…
Royce Da 5’9:
My rhymes reflection the Scarface supreme soul
If Jordan was wearing four-five,
I just look like this, I just seem old
But I had to bleed the blood of a dirty motherfucker
To suffer clean clothes
And touch what the king holds
The real estate market is harsh
Everything goes
From folds to who you were doing everything for
But I cut em off and move on to the new checks
New friends, chasing my new ends with new threats
Watching my dreams fold like a stack of bills
In the pocket of who ain’t trying to push up daffodils
But we the super group
You couldn’t handle this shit
If you were standing before us
Carrying the pooper scoop
You dealt with Shady’s shit?
I dealt with Shady’s shit
But I’m the only one who can truly say I dealt with Shady’s shit
I mean that with all respect
To Paul and Sheck
But Ryan and Marshall is all you get
My flow’s superb, I love Pauly Rosenberg
What I say in a track, those just words
Baby boy, forgive me, I’m just street
Cuz I can change into anything niggas want me to be
Like mystique, I don’t got to dig deep
To realize Slim brought Big Proof a big Jeep
Because he deserved it
And I’m on, the same way Shady did
Over here when he knew him
And when he attended Osborne
Marshall, I’m sorry, I knew it went left
I ain’t into fucking my family, like incest
If you remember Ice, it used to be my life’s interest
Tell Hailie my wife just had a princess
Since I made up with Em, there’s nothing else
That I can move on from, so who wants some?
Like a jar of Grey Poupon
You have to ask anybody in any car
Wanted to move on.
NIGGA MOVE ON!…
Crooked I:
When fans picture my interview
They think I’m in a swimming pool
With woman who’ve been abused
So they turn into strippers
Make a living in the nude
One in a middle blowing my inner tube
While the interviewer was getting ridiculed
Is this your vision? Coo’
Let me give you a little jewel
Any dude who wanna sit in my tennis shoes
Is just missing screws
Don’t get it misconstrued
Don’t get this shit confused
I’m two seconds from prison food
I’m a different dude
Pistol in my reach, man
Still in Long Beach man
Hoping if my grind don’t help me get out
My speech can
I’ve been in the streets longer than Yao Ming’s wingspan
You can be MTV, I’ll be C-SPAN
I deal with politics, bandanas and hollow tips
Half of you rappers follow this
Role models can swallow dick!
We stretched out over cash flow
Hip hop used to console my soul
Now it’s a bunch of assholes
Rap about a dance while I’m targeting cops
Spit some shit for Oscar Grant, hit the sergeant with shots
Make him a ghost like he part of The LOX
I won’t stop recording
Till I’m makin songs harder than ‘Pac’s
If it don’t happen, at least a nigga know he right there
Every memory under my Dodger hat’s a nightmare
As a kid I had to steal breakfast
And now the best question you have to ask me is
“Is this a real necklace?”
Where’s your beat from Dre, your feature from Cube?
These things leave people confused
Cuz they know I leave speakers abused
I ether EQ’s, I eat through the beepers
The secret, I think it’s the shoes
Back in Cali, niggas blazin’ stress
Waiting on Detox to save the West
Even if this shit is dope
It ain’t giving you niggas hope
Unless your signatures
Wrote on the check from Interscope, NOPE!
MOVE ON! Move on
West…Coast! Nah mean? West Coast move on!
And all that shit about me being on Death Row?
Move on. Or get moved on! Haha!
SLAUGHTERHOUSEEEEEEE! BIOTCH!
and its deff. Stains on my pants hardly had a cut
thanks, fixed that one. still sounds like he said “gut” but the harvey part doesnt make sense.
not sure how the other comment got deleted, appreciate the help!
I wrote Crooked’s verse for you.
Crooked I:
When fans picture my interview
They think I’m in a swimming pool
With woman who’ve been abused
So they turn into strippers
Make a living in the news
One in a middle blowing my inner tube
While the interviewer was getting ridiculed
Is this your vision? Coo’
Let me give you a little jewel
Any dude who wanna sit in my tennis shoes
Is just missing screws
Don’t get it misconstrued
Don’t get this shit confused
I’m two seconds from prison food
I’m a different dude
Pistol in my reach, man
Still in Long Beach man
Hoping if my grind don’t help me get out
My speech can
I’ve been in the streets longer than Yao Ming’s wingspan
You can be MTV; I’ll be C-SPAN
I deal with politics, bandanas and hollow tips
Half of you rappers follow
Role models can swallow dick!
With stretched out over cash flow
Hip hop used to conceal my soul
Now it’s a bunch of assholes
Rap about a dance while I’m targeting cops
Spit some shit for Oscar Gram, hit the sergeant with shots
Make him a ghost like he part of The LOX
I won’t stop recording
Till I make songs harder than ‘Pac’s
If it don’t happen, at least a nigga know he right there
Every memory under my Dodge, I have to nightmare
As a kid I used to steal breakfast
And now the best question you have to ask me is
“Is this a real necklace?”
Where’s your beat from Dre, your feature from Cube?
These things leave people confused
Cuz they know I leave speakers abused
I eat the EQ’s, I eat through the beepers
The secret, I think it’s the shoes
Back in Cali, niggas blazin’ stress
Waiting on Detox to save the West
Even if this shit is dope
It ain’t giving you niggas hope
Unless your signatures
Wrote on the check from Interscope, NOPE!
MOVE ON! Move on West…Coast! Nah mean? West Coast move on!
And all that shit about me being on Death Row? Move on. Or get moved on! Haha!
SLAUGHTERHOUSEEEEEEE! BIOTCH!
And here’s Royce’s. Shit, did a lot of extraneous work for you lol. Just messing, all good.
Royce Da 5’9”:
My rhymes reflection the Scarface supreme soul
If Jordan was wearing four-five,
I just look like this, I just seem old
But I had to bleed the blood of a dirty motherfucker
To suffer clean clothes
And touch what the king holds
The real estate market is harsh
Everything goes
From folds to who you were doing everything for
But I cut em off and move on to the new checks
New friends, chasing my new ends with new threats
Watching my dreams fold
Like a stack of bills
In the pocket of who ain’t trying to push up daffodils
But we the supercrew
You couldn’t handle this shit
If you were standing before us
Carrying the pooper scoop
You dealt with Shady’s shit?
I dealt with Shady’s shit
But I’m the only one who can truly say I dealt with Shady’s shit
I mean that with all respect
The poll is sheck
But Ryan and Marshall is all you get
My flow’s superb
I love Polly Rosenberg
What I say in a track
Those just words
Baby boy, forgive me
I’m just street
Cuz I can change into anything niggas want me to be
Like Misty
I don’t got to dig deep
To realize Slim
Brought Big Proof or Big G
Because he deserved it
And I’m on, the same way Shady did
Over here when he knew him
And when he attended Osborne
Marshall, I’m sorry
I knew it went left
I ain’t into fucking my family, like incest
If you remember Ice, it used to be my life’s interest
Tell Hailie my wife just had a princess
Since I made up with Em
There’s nothing else
That I can move on from
So who wants some?
Like a jar great pre-porn
You have to ask anybody in any car
Wanted to move on.
NIGGA MOVE ON!…
yo you guys got a line twisted
the part where Crooked says “Every memory under my Dodge, I have to nightmare”
it’s actually
“Every memory under my Dodgers Hats a nightmare…”
^ thanks
there was still a few errors I didn’t double check, fixed a few more with that one. let me know of any others I missed.
I think Royce says “To realize Slim brought Big Proof A big jeep”
it makes more sence that way…
change ‘i eat the EQ’s’ to ‘i ether EQ’s’
Also ‘Hip hop used to conceal my soul’ should be ‘Hip hop used to console my soul’ -Crooked’s verse
thanks, fixed both of those just now!