(Rah-Digga) I be the worst like Nick To all them mc thugs Like them 4 little kids And the teacher gettin plugged I don't give a fuck style Tell me come jiggy I rock kix and swishees Coppin moet wit 2 counterfeit 50's What? Dirty girl rhyme spit mucous Speech uncoothe And raise the roof like Lukas 12 years done rocked through all phases Watch your peeps scream the bitch was the blazest
(Spliff Starr) Niggas run they mouth about my click Not smart I bust your bloodclot Then drop you upon the sidewalk (Chi-chi-chi-Blow!!!) Hit ya ass wit a vicious blow You know my style Spliff the foul Through your stereo Spliff Starr ignorant immigrant I'm gettin it Money, fast car, fine broads, what I'm hittin it (that's right) Raw shit i'm spittin it At you and yours Make you feel the pain nigga Like the dick to your balls Thug blood fluid Pumpin in the face of my music Drop the street shit Watch the whole world rock to it Nigga Squad!!!
(Baby Sham) Squad had em opin Had his bitch scopin Sittin by the bar Sippin Heinken's totein Pinky rings glowin Triple beams to the club My man is half thug Giving me pound and holdin grudge Feelin my shit So I can put a lock on your clik Your style is past tense Hold on, Hold on You just started rappin Ever since you heard the shit We fuckin wit it's platinum Slow your growth Stop the show Go at you both Hit you with more bars than soap Sham is the name Feelin invain Fiendin for dope (Buckshot) Yeah, you know we got cha opin!!!
Hook: Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Yo, stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid
(Ramoage) Niggas made me mad And now I wanna clap shit (Uh) I reign supreme in this muthafuckin rap shit I lost my mind I can't get it back The way that I'm spittin, yo I spit ya fuckin wig back Don't front, my squad got you opin Hit you with a buck fifty Here's a token Ramp is smokin I'm no joke and I leave your face broken This is survival of the fittest Get wit us All you critics and bullshitters My nine goes bang I'm talkin street slang I'm reppin Flipmode Plus I'm doing my thang On the side We won't let it ride Nigga don't hide
(Lord Have Mercy) Landlord innovator Switch lanes no indicator The general, cash generator Master and saviour Nigga stay massive in nature When tooth shatter ya die bone In the savage cyclone of cops, sirens, and cases Who read the bible for basics? When I'm crooked eye with rivals Horizontal in God's places Suspicious of all Now who dat??? Quick on the draw Lick a paw For loved ones blood runs cold in the winter wars Check the criminal thoughts Villains warp with the invisible force Know the ledge Stay focused like photo lens And spread wings like Cobra heads Till I'm old and dead
(Busta) Hot shit, toxic You know we blocks shit Traffic in the streets system All in your jeep knocks shit Julio for no reason back the fifth And he cocks it Rock shit, we make niggas mad And wanna pop shit Massive and attractive Niggas is captive Chemotherapy needed Lyrics radioactive When I hit hard It get my dick hard In my backyard Analyze the stars On how to defeat all odds In a new zone I'm on a new phone Make most of the wackest rapper niggas Wanna find a new home Like Rasco jeans My style flip two-tone Pass my blue chrome Here's one of the best of Busta Rhymes own My debut made you Wonder who Shit blazes so much You wish you could play out So you could blaze, too Before I shout you Or give reason to doubt you I study shit and re-analyze everything about you My rhymes on the preserve Niggas know we deserve Everything up in your stash and in the reserve Fuck that!!! Hook up all my lyrics on the echos and the re-verbs Never fuck with these herbs My squad remains superb
(Buckshot) (Heh) Walkin thru the streets Undercovers follow us, stress Muthafuckas on the regular to bust Trust us We don't get enough Nigga wha-what? Dirty baggy jeans Black napsack with something for ya gut Wooly-type skully Fully strapped, black bulletproof, and match Quick, Whip up a batch Of bullets to blow up the map Shit Collapse, perhaps doing this in the raps In the long time, ya trapped Buck make em react God verse attack Let em know the moon is still black And it's a fact...
Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Yo stop frontin, ya know we got cha opin Don't front, you know we got cha opin, yo Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Yo stop frontin, you know we got cha opin
Huh, word life Mad niggas opin Yeah, word life Flipmode, muthafuckin Buckshot Mad niggas scopin