for real though who really got sick though
 on the edge got the ledge hangin' out of the window
 bird chest niggas witcha winderous fearaf
 fuck around you'll be against me the size of a meal sack
 cutie little bucks better hit the jake
 but that doesn't mean nothin to the heart within
 you cramped up you and your team I'm amped up
 and you asses can't dip my B
 my shine what the fuck is on your mind?
 Little weaklink rappers better hit the grind
 Other brothers ain't motivated they can't do it
 Not only the opposite train it I ran through it
 My music comes on and we march at the dance
 Inside of your mind or inside of my pants?
 Use a cruel intention that we have is bad
 You sick? Drink a NyQuil when I'm bed on your ass
 Oh well then here comes the gellatiin
 Tips on some sugars but you yap on your sellin' friends
 Now your party is completely blown
 Real name is Kamal I'll make him peep his own
 It's rap time for you that means nap time
 Preachin from my joint what the fuck I'ma clap mine
 Singin songs in 6 pens with sit tensed
 Surpised your ass is the end like the sixth sense
 heavy hitters knockin shit out the park
 you didn't even really play tell me why did you start
 spittin sharp blades lakes with bleach
 you wanna play around kid I'm not a walk at the beach
 a stroll in the park or your fuckin playground
 put on your headphones and tell me how granades sound
 put on your walkmase and go underneath the town
 Q-Tip abstract how I gets down

 Chorus: [Busta Rhymes]
 All my bitches, dance if you know that you dam sure
 Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna
 [Q-Tip]
 get down
 [Busta Rhymes]
 fuck that niggas will bust gats
 better lit a make for their rush that cuz they wanna
 [Q-Tip]
 get down
 [Busta Rhymes]
 blick shit piano sick shit
 [Q-Tip]
 get down
 [Busta Rhymes]
 chill you can get off my dick and
 [Q-Tip]
 get down
 [Busta Rhymes]
 while I'm on the hook get on your good foot
 and blow up the spot for all of you niggas cuz that's how we
 [Q-Tip]
 get down

 [Q-Tip]
 comin with the brand new quickly we pant to
 the young black man with intentions to band you
 see that people need a age in things
 so many paid their ways so many phean to stay
 I really rhyme cuz I feel I should say things
 By the fortualte act rap just so they cop rings
 Or maybe because when they was young
 They was fronted on a life alone that have their own fun
 Now their all grown up to be assholes
 I'm giving you the rope will you tie talassels?
 You swing dingaling for peas trees
 While I sip my Dacarees in the south west breeze
 Writings so exciting the pen it keeps
 Drippin out jings that's converted to hems and them
 People be hummin in formality next to kin
 My family is starvin? You know they want me to win
 We forfeit nigga please get off it
 Second checkin my name to my office
 Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it
 Abstract comin through witness abortion