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Busta Rhymes

We Got Cha Opin (Part 1)

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  gangsta rap  east coast
180,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin (Part 1)

Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin (Part 1) слова песни



Текст песни Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin (Part 1)




(rah-digga)I be the worst like nickTo all them mc thugsLike them 4 little kidsAnd the teacher gettin pluggedI don’t give a fuck styleTell me come jiggyI rock kix and swishees( )Coppin moet wit 2 counterfeit 50’sWhat? Dirty girl rhyme spit mucousSpeech uncootheAnd raise the roof like lukas12 years done rocked through all phasesWatch your peeps scream the bitch was the blazest(spliff starr)Niggas run they mouth about my clickNot smartI bust your bloodclotThen drop you upon the sidewalk(chi-chi-chi-blow!!!)Hit ya ass wit a vicious blowYou know my styleSpliff the foulThrough your stereoSpliff starr ignorant immigrantI’m gettin itMoney, fast car, fine broads, whatI’m hittin it (that’s right)Raw shit I’m spittin itAt you and yoursMake you feel the pain niggaLike the dick to your ballsThug blood fluidPumpin in the face of my musicDrop the street shitWatch the whole world rock to itNigga squad!!!(baby sham)Squad had em opinHad his bitch scopinSittin by the barSippin heinken’s toteinPinky rings glowinTriple beams to the clubMy man is half thugGiving me pound and holdin grudgeFeelin my shitSo I can put a lock on your clikYour style is past tenseHold on, hold onYou just started rappinEver since you heard the shitWe fuckin wit it’s platinumSlow your growthStop the showGo at you bothHit you with more bars than soapSham is the nameFeelin invainFiendin for dope(buckshot)Yeah, you know we got cha opin!!!Hook:Don’t front, you know we got cha opin kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin kidYo, stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin kidStop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid(ramoage)Niggas made me madAnd now I wanna clap shit (uh)I reign supreme in this muthafuckin rap shitI lost my mindI can’t get it backThe way that I’m spittin, yoI spit ya fuckin wig backDon’t front, my squad got you opinHit you with a buck fiftyHere’s a tokenRamp is smokinI’m no joke andI leave your face brokenThis is survival of the fittestGet wit usAll you critics and bullshittersMy nine goes bangI’m talkin street slangI’m reppin flipmodePlus I’m doing my thangOn the sideWe won’t let it rideNigga don’t hide(lord have mercy)Landlord innovatorSwitch lanes no indicatorThe general, cash generatorMaster and saviourNigga stay massive in natureWhen tooth shatter ya die boneIn the savage cyclone of cops, sirens, and casesWho read the Bible for basics? When I’m crooked eye with rivalsHorizontal in god’s placesSuspicious of allNow who dat? ? ? Quick on the drawLick a pawFor loved ones blood runs cold in the winter warsCheck the criminal thoughtsVillains warp with the invisible forceKnow the ledgeStay focused like photo lensAnd spread wings like cobra headsTill I’m old and dead(busta)Hot shit, toxicYou know we blocks shitTraffic in the streets systemAll in your jeep knocks shitJulio for no reason back the fifthAnd he cocks itRock shit, we make niggas madAnd wanna pop shitMassive and attractiveNiggas is captiveChemotherapy neededLyrics radioactiveWhen I hit hardIt get my dick hardIn my backyardAnalyze the starsOn how to defeat all oddsIn a new zoneI’m on a new phoneMake most of the wackest rapper niggasWanna find a new homeLike rasco jeansMy style flip two-tonePass my blue chromeHere’s one of the best of busta rhymes ownMy debut made youWonder whoShit blazes so muchYou wish you could play outSo you could blaze, tooBefore I shout youOr give reason to doubt youI study shit and re-analyze everything about youMy rhymes on the preserveNiggas know we deserveEverything up in your stash and in the reserveFuck that!!!Hook up all my lyrics on the echos and the re-verbsNever fuck with these herbsMy squad remains superb(buckshot)(heh) walkin thru the streetsUndercovers follow us, stressMuthafuckas on the regular to bustTrust usWe don’t get enoughNigga wha-what? Dirty baggy jeansBlack napsack with something for ya gutWooly-type skullyFully strapped, black bulletproof, and matchQuick,Whip up a batchOf bullets to blow up the mapShitCollapse, perhaps doing this in the rapsIn the long time, ya trappedBuck make em reactGod verse attackLet em know the moon is still blackAnd it’s a fact...Don’t front, you know we got cha opin, kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin, kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin, kidYo stop frontin, ya know we got cha opinDon’t front, you know we got cha opin, yoDon’t front, you know we got cha opin, kidDon’t front, you know we got cha opin, kidYo stop frontin, you know we got cha opinHuh, word lifeMad niggas opinYeah, word lifeFlipmode, muthafuckin buckshotMad niggas scopinBuck to ya brain!!!!!




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