Chorus: Master P (repeat 2X)
 Here we go  Here we go  Here we go (BE BOUT YO BUSINESS)
 From the south  to the west  to the mid  to the east coast

 Verse One: Master P

 I got heroin and cocaine
 some call me the dope man  a young nigga havin thangs
 A thug like Tupac
 went from cheddar to cheese  from powder to cooked rocks
 From the ghetto to the lakes
 (to the lakes  3rd ward, Caliope)
 Slangin' thangs in the hood to move my records to 54 states
 Got more work than the mayor do (mayor do)
 it stick to niggas that talk shit
 like a baller they bitch hair blue
 Got more corns than fritos
 Got more hoe's than Macys sell muthafuckin Girbauds
 Keep the muthafuckin party jumpin (uhh, bout it, bout it)
 For puttin the south on the map like Eazy-E did Compton
 Hoo-ride with these gangbangers (gangbangers)
 No Limit Soldiers, mercenary killas keep one up in the chamber
 _Got it Made_ like Special Ed
 Got more _Vapors_ than BizMarkie ever had
 After _Dead Presidents_ like Eric B.
 _Hypnotize_ the rap industry like Biggie
 Going _Federal_ like E-40
 Shock the world like Silkk, put my pockets on tilt
 Puttin fools _On Hold_ like En Vogue
 Used to slang white ice cream, now its platinum and golds

 Chorus 2X

 Verse Two: Mystikal

 Without no business
 its over for you before you get out the door
 what the fuck they gon tell you for if you don't already know
 huh nigga thats all on you to be on top of yearn
 But by the time they finish fuckin you, bitch you gon learn
 Ain't no fuckin favors, ain't no fuckin friends
 That shit don't mix, this business
 Be bout yo paper, yo royalties or them bitches will take ya
 Make sure yo contract is escilatin' otherwise them bitches will rape ya
 makin big promises on how it's gonna be all good just and be patient
 yo album done came and gone and you stupid ass still waitin
 stackin paper off my work
 Them no good son of a bitches got me livin for concerts
 I done headlined every hole in the wall in and out the city
 Humble cause I'm gonna believe it was meant for me
 I'ma get it, makin moves but still somethin missin
 Fuck how good you rap it ain't shit without yo business
 No business

 Chorus 2X

 Verse Three: Fiend

 I could end the world with one line
 but I chose to make these hoes suffer
 Fill the voice with no muffler, I's a bad motherfucker
 Uncover, unleash the beast, dangerous from head to feet
 Can't control my rhymes, because them bitches seep through
 My teeth, so cold I heats, rising like some yeast, bake some beats
 Meltin needers off of technique and thats just when I speak
 Seek and you should find that my mind is beyond
 and yall niggas lines behind the times of my first lines
 Shit I'm in my prime, I want it with the mic or the nine
 For mine it protects crimes to the blind (he ain't lying)
 And I ain't dying line goes the paper the chase
 P done gave me the break for me to make some cake
 still dope I cook in sake, got pretty ass hoes to bake
 Thats definitely a dumb nigga lure, you wanna smoke
 Cause this business makin me a weed conniseur
 Meet the have-been, one of the last men on this note
 Who wanna get served by the nigga, the nerve at the throat
 You think you bad but bitch you never had
 A nigga to give more heart attacks than Fred Sanford had

 Chorus till fade

 (Master P talking)
 To the motherfuckin south (the south)
 to the west (to the west)
 To the mid (to the mid)
 to the motherfuckin east (to the east)
 To the world (to the motherfuckin world)
 No Limit, here I come whenever we want to
 September 2nd, get the fuckin world high
 bout my motherfuckin business, ha ha,
 Master P, Young Fiend and Mystikal
 Uungh!, bout it bout it