Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Against All Odds, artist - Busta Rhymes. Album song Extinction Level Event: The Final World Front, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.07.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Elektra, Rhino Entertainment Company
Song language: English
Against All Odds |
Ayo, pause your pencils |
As hollow tips get in you |
Bots cutting to slice your face you |
Rhymes is natural |
Hold two lives and four wives |
Up in the crack capsule |
Flipmode cruddy styles has been past you |
Rush pass |
You couldn’t touch cash |
If it was under your nose |
Like a mustache |
Nigga |
What ass |
Show your whole cheek |
Slugs with no heat |
Diamonds that don’t break |
You thugs is so sweet |
I float so much I get seasick |
Flipmode is the Squad who I bees with |
Who I get plucks with |
And push German V’s with |
Rampage I’m psychic I can see shit |
'Til the next millennium |
You not gon be shit |
Scratch your name off the list |
Cut your wrist |
You know the issue |
I’m official |
When you die none of your niggas is really gon miss you |
Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs |
Against all odds, still remain gods |
Grup your arm, we always come hard |
The world is ours, call a National Guard |
Here we go |
Any bitch that rhyme wanna flex she ass |
I’m stomping all things like I’m plexi-glass |
Niggas make way like when they hear sirens |
Treat you like parking too close to fire hydrants |
All up in the board |
Kicking back long islands |
Get your wig split first solid defiance |
Rah Earth and sun in this Imperial alliance |
You do the science |
I’m getting money shitting, turn intruders into vixens |
Fall off beeper uh-uh niggas stay getting |
Dirty nigga for life |
That’s how Spliff’s living |
Throwing niggas in caskets |
Tired of a yellow ribbons |
I buck my duck if you touch my one |
Rather Jamaican than belly boy make you people for fun |
Fat Man’s Son, street educated |
The colonel of ghetto jurors, still thug related |
Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs |
Against all odds, still remain gods |
Grup your arm, we always come hard |
The world is ours, call a National Guard |
We enemies of three strike felony laws |
Gorilla dicking K-Y jelly for whores |
Lapdances trap grands without laws |
My baby moms, three eighty for your arms |
That bust with loud force |
The ghetto with us |
That bang Makaveli in trucks |
That whatever the fuck to give a cheddar in chunks |
Fugazi chains |
Fake thugs with lazy aid |
Track marks |
Rap stars |
And a raid of aids |
Yo, what you want from us |
Now visualize more of us |
Stay toting under my given flavor from Nauticas |
Destroy every arch-rival or any challenger |
Make you remember this day |
Nigga mark it on your calendar |
I’m showing you something |
You ain’t saying nothing |
My niggas make noise |
Like a bunch of volcanoes erupting |
None of y’all niggas really wanna war |
The type of nigga to crash my plane in your building |
In the name of Allah |
Flipmode Squad, here to drop bombs |
Against all odds, still remain gods |
Grup your arm, we always come hard |
The world is ours, call a National Guard |