Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Abandon Ship, artist - Busta Rhymes. Date of issue: 26.11.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Abandon Ship |
| One two three we gon’turn it out |
| And make you rock to the beat and then scream and shout |
| We gonna hit you with the shit we got here |
| We gonna blow your miiiinnnd (blow your miiiinnnd) |
| Keep it movin like this, keep it movin like that |
| If I die, I’ma only come back |
| Yo, I’m saying if you think that you can step to me wrong |
| Don’t even waste your tiiiimmme (waste your tiiiimmme) |
| Chorus Two: |
| You niggaz talk shit then abandon ship |
| Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship |
| Niggaz talk shit, then they abandon ship |
| Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship |
| Verse One: Rampage the Last Boy Scout, Busta Rhymes |
| I 8Off like the Assassin, now I’m blastin I’m takin over |
| Stick you for your blue Range Rover |
| I told ya, Rampage a real live soldier |
| Been in the game, sinc the age of thirteen |
| A microphone fiend, so I’m goin to see my P.O. |
| It’s August the 1st, so I guess I’m a Leo |
| My P.O., look like Vanessa Del Rio |
| She pulled my rap sheet, just like, Neo Geo |
| Hahahaaa! |
| I always roam through the forest |
| Just like a brontosaurus, born in the month of May |
| so my sign is Taurus, kick you in your face |
| like my fuckin name was Chuck Norris, make you sing my chorus |
| Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus |
| You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless |
| Acting like you wild, but I know you really harmless |
| While your time is coming, I make the fat shit regardless |
| Many niggaz wanna know when the Ramp return |
| Yo I’m gettin phone calls from that nigga Howard Stern |
| He wants to know about my Flip Mode click |
| The way we get down and BUST NIGGAZ SHIT |
| LP after LP, we make G’s |
| I run up in your ganks den take you for your keys |
| I’m not lying or joking, you get broken |
| Dead in Flatbush, back to Roanoake and… |
| People always askin me, how your shit be sellin |
| For makin shit guaranteed to bust your fuckin melon |
| Police throwed me up on charges like I was a felon |
| There was no tellin, when I was strikin had you swellin |
| Cruisin in my Lands, watch the police how they be gellin |
| Lock you up for days and got a nigga ass smellin |
| Yo FUCK THAT! |
| You best believe there ain’t no time for dwellin |
| If you ain’t makin noise you need to kill the fuckin yellin |
| Chorus One |
| Chorus Two |
| Verse Two: Rampage, Busta |
| Yo, yo, yo I run up in your set like a New York city… |
| I can’t slip, I beat you down with my vice grip |
| Your lost, that means you way off course |
| No remorse, I’m gettin five in The Source |
| I be saddleback biting motherfuckers like a horse |
| Turn and toss, niggaz all up in my applesauce |
| Watch me reinforce, my shit feel good like intercourse |
| Ever since I was a shorty rockin Hugo Boss |
| Aiyyo bust it Bust (why) you just made my day |
| If you didn’t put me on I’d be locked like O.J. |
| Now I’m writin rhymes hittin shorties everyday |
| In the full runnin drinkin ice Tanqueray |
| I don’t eat pork I take a fish fellet |
| Now I’m knockin out niggaz from. |
| to. |
| touche! |
| Now I’m goin back around the way |
| I’m rippin shit, like my name was Marvin Gaye |
| Yo, now I’m back with more Bionic like my name was Colt Seavers |
| Got you niggaz open like a bunch of wide receivers |
| Time is on the meter, go clean your act up in the cleaners |
| Chickenhead, give me some of your chicken fajitas |
| Yo I beg your pardon, I write my rhymes way past the margins |
| Squeeze the Charmin, peace to one million men marchin |
| When you talk shit you really don’t know what you startin |
| Now your shit is done like a fuckin empty milk carton |
| It’s on for the nine-six, mad shows at the Ritz |
| Now we got you open like Fixx |
| Stickin to your stomach like Quaker Oat Grits |
| Fisherman hat with my brand new kicks |
| On the low, I still rock my Girbauds |
| See the show, I got my nickel plated fo'-fo' |
| All my rough niggaz open the do' |
| Cause Boy Scout brings the ruckus and I’m still hardco' |
| Yo, when I walk streets you know my blade’s a little sharper |
| Fuck Peter Parker, I cross you like a magic marker |
| Everytime I hit I always hit a little harder |
| Blazing to the point where niggaz look a little darker |
| Catching suntans from my music, fans understand |
| Making fat shit, I always love to lend a helping hand |
| Organized rhyme unit like the Poison Clan |
| While your ride is busted, I be your luxury Sedan |
| Number one nigga in the chain of command |
| Breakin fool in school like my nigga Geechie Dan |
| Aiyyyyyo, I see intruders on my scan |
| Singin at your funeral like Bobby Bluebland |
| Chorus One |