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Busta Rhymes

Straight Spittin’

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  gangsta rap  east coast
1,619 3 часа назад

Текст песни Busta Rhymes - Straight Spittin’

Busta Rhymes - Straight Spittin’ слова песни



Текст песни Busta Rhymes - Straight Spittin’




Straight spittin’Flipmode squad_the_imperial_I’ll bust all you cats in the game for malpracticeI’m in jersey, where I’m paying no taxesI’ll stick your girl, agnus( )Flipmode bring the madnessPlatinum status, rampage I’m the baddestCheck the credit, yo you might as well dead itI said it, fuck the edit, it’s uncutNigga what, it’s crunch time for me to shineI’m a show you easily for me to take minesPass my nickel plated nine, call me einsteinBuck a shot two times and stick you for your rhymePut you in a pine boxYou and your whole family’s on detoxHustlin crack for reeboksHoly socks, cut you with my oxRampage got the city lockedAnd your function, to the flat bush junctionCausin rambunction, watch me do you somethinBaby sham on some new shitNew and exclusive5’3", caramel, tight grip on a four fifthLeave em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul driftNigga with the 6 story, throw em off the cliffAs I speak the shit to put my name on the listThe small thug with a slug put a mark on his wristA tattoo of pyramids, puttin hollows in clipsPeeped your gat, jammed tight, ross your lookin to riff (what the fuck? )Qb’s type shit, cause we runnin your cliqueSee me in the drop, with your six, sayin she snitchedBut never that, cuz-o, high beam through the windowMy lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast thoughGot a safe in your crib, sham, you know the codeSearch, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that’s zeroTook the c notes and flip mode left on the quietest noteSwallowed these then cleared your throatBitch ass, you should have spoke*gimmie an f*Fuck the bullshit, fire my gunFly a nigga head, fuck it for funFuck where you from*gimmie an l*Layin on beaches, killin all leechesLove to break a liar facePick up the pieces, yo*gimmie an i*Intelligence eliminates all irrelavanceIcon of immaculate rhyme common sense*gimmie a p*Powerful professionalPoppin my pistolMake a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls*gimmie an m*Master of all missionsMaker of decisionsHead on collisionsMassacre the meat rack, ask the women*gimmie an o*Got niggas open, open heart surgeryRhyme so official, overthrow governmentsShit is nursery*gimmie a d*Diggin my dick all inside your chickDominate the heavyweight divisionRhymin district*gimmie an e*Everlasting slangEternal ebonicsLyrical e-mailStabalize livin in all my economics*squad*Group of men, womenUnified forceSquadronMovin like one in unisonBeg your pardonWhat they call meA hundred on a harleyOut of nowhere, and keep you surfin like brawley(sp? )Narley! I’m the bitch with the pistolWoody woodpecker or l.l. at the bristolOfficial stand, hold it down in trentThen link up at the tunnel with the rest of my campPaper like meade, I’m in the mix like speedAnd be screamin on the mic till my tonsils bleedYeah that’s the way it isLike when a kid get chirstenedLike comin to the bricks to find your whip missinRockin uptown, on down to west howstonHouston, peace to my bitches that’s boostinAfter juicin, I’m a straight black ball a rapperTap a nigga’s nerves like them hackersBe goin on the modem, I get the call from the dispatcherThen show them mother f’ers what I’m afterYo I back slap a wack mc for trying to beSomething he not, pull his card, blow up his spotNigga talkin bout murder but ain’t committin oneNiggas talkin bout gats but ain’t bustin oneYo, I see you in the (? ) portayin like you a thugYea, your man got a gatt, but he ain’t bustin no slugYouYou’s a local black spokesman, I split your front openViscious knife wound, fucked up like ron goldmanSpliff, I spit, fully equipped for any bullshitGrew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shitIgnorant, vulgar, on your taperecorderIdol to your son and probably lover to your daughterFatman son, wilted grandson, (? ) nephew, frank the cousin--more--(82%)*uh huh, one more time, uh huh, spliff, come on*Bust my gun, like columbiansMake niggas colapse like fucked up lungsBetter obey the laws of the landOr lay still like soldiers of fortune in namClosed coffin with flags folded in halfTriangular shape, blow out the candles with graceFor fabulous tastes, some will, battle for spacePay the ultimate price, poltergeistPut the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to christFocus your dice, when the vulture’s in flightResculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium biteProphet in vein, metropolis claim body and soulId’s controlled in the optical frameNever stoppin the gameRemove your squad with steady plansI body slam punks like superstar billy gramm*straight spittin...word is bond...flip mode squad...striaght spittin...lyricalAss whippin...we straight spittin....*




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