Busta Rhymes

Busta Rhymes - Straight Spittin' songtekst

Je score:

Straight Spittin'

Flipmode Squad

_The_Imperial_





I'll bust all you cats in the game for malpractice

I'm in Jersey, where I'm paying no taxes

I'll stick your girl, Agnus

Flipmode bring the madness

Platinum status, Rampage I'm the baddest

Check the credit, yo you might as well dead it

I said it, fuck the edit, it's uncut

Nigga what, it's crunch time for me to shine

I'm a show you easily for me to take mines

Pass my nickel plated nine, call me Einstein

Buck a shot two times and stick you for your rhyme

Put you in a pine box

You and your whole family's on detox

Hustlin crack for Reeboks

Holy socks, cut you with my ox

Rampage got the city locked

and your function, to the Flat Bush junction

Causin rambunction, watch me do you somethin





Baby Sham on some new shit

New and exclusive

5'3", Caramel, tight grip on a four fifth

Leave em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul drift

Nigga with the 6 story, throw em off the cliff

As I speak the shit to put my name on the list

The small thug with a slug put a mark on his wrist

A tattoo of pyramids, puttin hollows in clips

Peeped your gat, jammed tight, Ross your lookin to riff  (what the fuck?)

QB's type shit, cause we runnin your clique

See me in the drop, with your six, sayin she snitched

But never that, cuz-o, high beam through the window              

My lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast though

Got a safe in your crib, sham, you know the code

Search, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that's zero

Took the c notes and flip mode left on the quietest note

Swallowed these then cleared your throat

Bitch ass, you should have spoke





*GIMMIE AN F*

Fuck the bullshit, fire my gun

Fly a nigga head, fuck it for fun

Fuck where you from

*GIMMIE AN L*

Layin on beaches, killin all leeches

Love to break a liar face

Pick up the pieces, yo

*GIMMIE AN I*

Intelligence eliminates all irrelavance

Icon of immaculate rhyme common sense

*GIMMIE A P*

Powerful professional              

Poppin my pistol

Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls

*GIMMIE AN M*

Master of all missions

Maker of decisions

Head on collisions

Massacre the meat rack, ask the women

*GIMMIE AN O*

Got niggas open, open heart surgery

Rhyme so official, overthrow governments

Shit is nursery

*GIMMIE A D*

Diggin my dick all inside your chick

Dominate the heavyweight division

Rhymin district

*GIMMIE AN E*

Everlasting slang

Eternal ebonics

Lyrical e-mail

Stabalize livin in all my economics

*SQUAD*              

Group of men, women

Unified force

Squadron

Movin like one in unison

Beg your pardon





What they call me

A hundred on a Harley

Out of nowhere, and keep you surfin like Brawley(sp?)

Narley! I'm the bitch with the pistol

Woody Woodpecker or L.L. at the Bristol

Official stand, hold it down in Trent

Then link up at the tunnel with the rest of my camp

Paper like Meade, I'm in the mix like Speed

And be screamin on the mic till my tonsils bleed

Yeah that's the way it is

Like when a kid get chirstened

Like comin to the bricks to find your whip missin

Rockin uptown, on down to west Howston

Houston, peace to my bitches that's boostin             

After juicin, I'm a straight black ball a rapper

Tap a nigga's nerves like them hackers

Be goin on the modem, I get the call from the dispatcher

Then show them mother f'ers what I'm after





Yo I back slap a wack mc for trying to be

Something he not, pull his card, blow up his spot

Nigga talkin bout murder but ain't committin one

Niggas talkin bout gats but ain't bustin one

Yo, I see you in the (?) portayin like you a thug

Yea, your man got a gatt, but he ain't bustin no slug

You

You's a local black spokesman, I split your front open

Viscious knife wound, fucked up like Ron Goldman

Spliff, I spit, fully equipped for any bullshit

Grew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit

Ignorant, vulgar, on your taperecorder

Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter

Fatman son, wilted grandson, (?) nephew, Frank the cousin



--MORE--(82%)                

*Uh huh, one more time, uh huh, Spliff, come on*

Bust my gun, like Columbians

Make niggas colapse like fucked up lungs





Better obey the laws of the land

Or lay still like soldiers of fortune in Nam

Closed coffin with flags folded in half

Triangular shape, blow out the candles with grace

For fabulous tastes, some will, battle for space

Pay the ultimate price, poltergeist

Put the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to Christ

Focus your dice, when the vulture's in flight

Resculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium bite

Prophet in vein, Metropolis claim body and soul

ID's controlled in the optical frame

Never stoppin the game

Remove your squad with steady plans

I body slam punks like Superstar Billy Gramm



*Straight spittin...word is bond...Flip Mode Squad...Striaght Spittin...Lyrical

Ass Whippin...We straight Spittin....*
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: ?

Componist: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Taal: Engels

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden