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Yeah! [Busta Rhymes] Ha ha ha-hah ha-hah ha, ha-hah ha-hah ha Ha ha Flipmode why'all, whatchu talkin bout? De La why'all, whatchu talkin bout? Whatchu talkin bout? [Dove] Yo, you gettin stomped by the marching band Keep 'em shook like spray cans (it's so hot) It's so hot it'll make your face tan (ooh!) Ace ban rap, the place the wasteland Bit why'all in my mouth, but you taste bland I feel fake niggaz and mince these snake niggaz that hiss but won't bite - false alarm And if it don't +Rockwild+ we fin' to drop a bomb (Word up) +Strong+ grip on a mic like we +Stretch Arm+ I BEEN shine, you been warned and been torn Get smacked for the B.S. you been on Storm bad weather/whether or not you stay scorned For ten years I've baked shit like hot potato Rhymes still drippin like stu-be 's, you groupies need to show I.D. before the bust down Touched down the God put 7 to your Zippo and drop it on you heavy like a hippo (Now you heard that?) [Chorus] To all my dogs all the way in the back, ready to black I.C. why'all (see why'all) I.C. why'all Ladies get down shake yo' ASS around, I hope you know that I.C. why'all (see why'all) I.C. why'all To all my soldiers on the corner I.C. why'all (see why'all) Women doin what they want to I.C. why'all To them people gettin pulled over I.C. why'all (see why'all) I.C. why'all (see why'all) wouldn't want to be why'all [Pos] It's the one and only effect, that you catch from a cassette Straight wig out the world and girls we straight dig out ya back with letters spellin' out my name All over your marquee, cause the spark is me Currently we can be seen across your screen Stayin' wide-eyed 'cause you niggaz tryin' to scheme Welcome to the spot - I'm slaying with it Chop it up and fit it inside your quart of rice You speak ghetto falsetto on the mic device Tryin' to give me third degree, you just a third of me Couldn't be the shit if you were a turd of me A man tight with my funds, crush like Ricky D who quoted Vance Wright - no one can serve us! My squad advance heights quite superb Just kick off your shoes - jump on the jock It's been a long time comin' this you NEED to cop! [Chorus] [Busta Rhymes] It goes one (one) two (two) three (three) four (four) Bounce so much I ricochet up off the floor (floor) So raw shit the most raw you ever saw Quarter after four, niggaz quick to bust the back door Baby - open your blouse while I joust another nigga's spouse Quick Jamaican dick style all in they house I practice to be the all access, you see the fact is my mouth dirty, so follow while I display the slackness Yo, you see my slang talk straight from the slums When I was young, moms put soap on my tongue, and yo-yo Forever we gettin' this CHEDDAR with the quickness While I cast the spell on these bitches, you can be my eyewitness Short fuse, nowadays Langston Hughes We gettin' money with whoever - even the Jews The way we finagle and gain it must be all in my shoes F*ck a nigga up with De La like (?) can amuse [Chorus]
Written by: SYLVESTER ALLEN, HAROLD RAY I. BROWN, MORRIS DEWAYNE DICKERSON, LE ROY L. JORDAN, CHARLES MILLER, LEE OSKAR, HOWARD E. SCOTT, JERRY GOLDSTEIN, TREVOR SMITH, DANA STINSON, KELVIN MERCER, DAVID J. JOLICOEUR, VINCENT L. MASON
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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