Lyrics:
at the props y'all
So proud I'm sure, suck my encore's
Swinging a bolo, your flow goes solo
I'll smoke ya
It's time to yoke the joker
The only way you
I'm from
Therefore my energy had to make sure the better me won
It ain't no better one, son, it ain't no tellin' me nothin'
Nigga it's Chuck, Doc Dre
time, I got
To you, that money
My dreams come true
My life in diamonds
Who knew?
Who knew?
Who knew?
I'd leave it behind if you let me
Ironic,
When I showed up I knew we'd pop off It's not hard to see what my eyes do, what
these rhymes do Put my soul to the test, nevertheless
Leaving that
a reason/
So many times i fell but i got back on my feet/
So that's why I'm undefeated /
Verse 2:
I know you like to listen
And relate To these rhymes
rap'll gather
after, my skills master of the dip dapper
I hold the fort with my sorts, rap sports
I got niggaz on my dick, from down South to up
in grey
Got no privacy, got no liberty
'Cause the twentieth century people
Took it all away from me
Don't want to get myself shot down
By some
to silence the lamb and show him who I am
So I just set it off on my competitor
Freakin the funk as I hit em with crazy metaphors
Like back up off me dukes,
to silence the lamb and show him who I am
So I just set it off on my competitor
Freakin' the funk as I hit em with crazy metaphors
Like back up off me
do Sanaa Lathan
Fire Satan, God body, I got the choir hatin'
Rich and rude, plus my lifestyle is ravishing
Laying wood on your wife
I swear it's
Thanking god that I made it
I finally know what I'm great at
Always struggled with my purpose
Happy it was all worth it
Mama knew I'd be great
I got
It's 12.30 AM, Christmas Eve
I'm out with the gangstas and thieves
Celebratin', postin' up with eggnog [head up up] in my cup
[Put Rudolph
a thug hit it (This is the remix)
You ain't gotta get dressed or do your hair
Girl I got
24 hours, 24 hours
You getting ratchet for me
I got 24 hours, 24
All I got is my computer and Robotic Pen
Day made out of diamonds
Doll named Ken
Scintillating attitude
Fresh attire
Don’t call me Sir, call me Sire
gun like Busta Rhymes. It'll bust your mind just the way it spit
It's been a long road from 59. I miss being a kid
Run away from my problems, hoping
I got hella shooters like the taliban
Some of them are from afghanistan
All these other rappers yeah they fucking suck
Caught two my opps lacking call
I'm in the whip like I'm Jeremy Clarkson
I can't think of anything that rhymes with Clarkson
You went to shock's leisure pack
I got out my car
It went
it's my turn
Don't get me wrong, Nate, you've had a great run
But it's time to give the people somethin' different
So without further ado, I'd
Like
men invisible
When you think about it was the Indians the criminals?
Hell no! He replied
I’m from the South side, got rims on my ride
Got jewels on my
soul like a Holy touch
The tat on my arm's like the rhymes I write 'cause Armageaddon rivals life
Give my hype I might bust it tonight
Somebody call
off in your mind
Hear II Tru record one time, and you'll be recitin' my rhymes
[Brina]
Never knew two females yet to come, real master of the place
I got my life back
So I school the fools about the fast track
I get static from the style of my technique
Profanity, the blatant way in which I
through boat motors.
My kitchen fridge look like Jeffery Dahmer's.
Boys screamin' for mama from the drama.
My hunger for hip-hop got my gun up.
Yo,
all my blazer niggas that can't nomoe
And let them niggas know I still rhyme and crank up the flow
Let's Go
Them were the days (Them were the) them were
.JPG/236px-Out4Fame-Festival_2015_-_Busta_Rhymes_-_2_(cropped).JPG "Busta Rhymes")
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