Chill

Busta RhymesBusta Rhymes 

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Busta Rhymes

Trevor Tahiem Smith, Jr., (born May 20, 1972), better known by his stage name Busta Rhymes, is an American rapper, producer and actor. Chuck D of Public Enemy gave him the alias Busta Rhymes after NFL wide receiver George "Buster" Rhymes. Early in his career, he was known for his wild style and fashion, and today is best known for his intricate rapping technique, which involves rapping at a fast rate with lots of internal rhyme and half rhyme, and to date has received eleven Grammy nominations for his musical work. About.com included him on its list of the 50 Greatest MCs of Our Time (1987–2007), while Steve Huey of Allmusic called him one of the best and most prolific rappers of the '90s. In 2012, The Source placed him on their list of the Top 50 Lyricists o… more »

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 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!

I tried to tell a nigga chill
Call him David
Put the mess in the mada Copperfield
For real, niggas know the drill
Mommy on that molly while
She pop another pill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, nigga better chill
And if they don’t, just line em up
It’s perfect timin for the kill

I don’t care about the money
That your man make i hit a homerun
Now I’m runnin through my fan base
Up the green from a garden to a landscape
Sounds be the only lingo
Cops will never translate they pull up
I pull out that thing and pop it
I ain’t fuckin with no dicks
I’m on that Lorena Bobbitt
I’m no Davie but them ladies say
The boys way be Crockett
I’m the plug in the street
And you a motherfuckin socket
Had to chill for a while
But I’m welcomed back was low key
How I’m underneath the welcome mat
Now the bitches see me in the Forbes
So if I give you my number
Like a finny you should call
You should tell your man to chill
Cause you’re fuckin with a dog
And he be firecracker flaming and
You fuckin with a ball
I got them crills on the street
Got Jahlil on the beat only Phantoms
Ain’t no Caddys when we roll
Out in them fleets

I tried to tell a nigga chill
Call him David
Put the mess in the mada Copperfield
For real, niggas know the drill
Mommy on that molly while
She pop another pill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, nigga better chill
And if they don’t, just line em up
It’s perfect timin for the kill

Wrist on chill neck on chill
Hoes all up in my grill
I cop a feel then I tell that bitch to chill
Hop behind the wheel and get
Back to chasin that mill
Ok, big black zonin, on shit pumpin
Beef is like a car
To start it I push a button
And it’s over with it’s over with
I don’t know if you noticed it
But I just got my weight up bitch
I’m getting checks and bonuses
Pull up in the covers with
Yea I see you lookin
As you should, come and get this wood
Yea that getting go
G shot wrist, Reebok kicks
Watch my niggas f*ck the place u
King Kong shit
She back and forth on my balls
Ping-pong bitch
She playin house with my ding dong
I’m playin ding dong ditch
My bar is too ill, way too trill
Oh that’s yo girl actin up
Tell that bitch to chill for real

I tried to tell a nigga chill
Call him David
Put the mess in the mada Copperfield
For real, niggas know the drill
Mommy on that molly while
She pop another pill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, nigga better chill
And if they don’t, just line em up
It’s perfect timin for the kill

Yea, ya’ll know
When I come through and I lock it
So much bread I should attach a
Laundry basket to my pocket
You ain’t really knowin
Ready for the lesson?
See me whippin a Boeing, 7-47
See the wrist be glowin til
I’m shinin like a misfit
Spark with nigga cascade, dish washing liquid
Bread up in the palasades
Mansion into stash house
Wildin in the club while bitches
Dancing with they ass out
Mossberg military in case niggas act out
Wildin like a click over
Traded niggas blacked out
Why oh why oh why nigga?
You don’t wanna try it
See my niggas squeezing til they
Finger muscle getting tired nigga
Finish with the coke up watch
It rattle through the woofa
Like a kid cooked the coke up
In a fuckin pressure cooker
Then I quickly count the profit
Cop another castle
Keep cooking until they want a
Nigga on their cooking channel
You know my style, you see the way I sip up
At 10 thousand a bottle
Shit you know my niggas grip up
I’m on that raise the throttle shit
You know I got the hook up
Go ahead and fuckin gobble bitch
It’s simple like the pushup
Rocket launcher swag bitch
See how I’m propelling ya’ll
Taking over everything
I’m tired of telling ya’ll
Why you always talk
Could give a f*ck what niggas chat bout
Keep applying the pressure until
You niggas tap out now pass out

I tried to tell a nigga chill
Call him David
Put the mess in the mada Copperfield
For real, niggas know the drill
Mommy on that molly while
She pop another pill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, nigga better chill
And if they don’t, just line em up
It’s perfect timin for the kill

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!