Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Finish Line, artist - Busta Rhymes.
Date of issue: 26.11.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Finish Line |
You can live true baby, you can live trife |
Whatever way you chose you got to leave your life |
Aiyyo you’re running out of time, and you bout to cross |
The finish line, the finish line |
(repeat Chorus) |
Verse One: Busta Rhymes |
And, yo! |
I can’t afford to waste a second |
Steppin with my eyes on niggaz checkin on my weapons |
Every millisecond, motherfuckers say they true to this |
But when they grab the microphone they shit sound like stupidness |
I know that you can’t handle when I flip from other angles now |
Feel my hot wax, burning from my melting candles |
You can’t take the heat, so you switch from boots to wearing sandals |
This is for example! |
Shit will make a nigga curse |
When worse comes to worse, you be the first to disperse now |
We don’t BELIEVE your man was living like that |
Hoping to find that nigga see exactly where his heart was at It’s a damn shame how Son know your style, know your name |
Watch how he pull your file, make you wish you never fuckin came NOW |
Even the hardest motherfucker has his final day |
So kill that shit you talkin, and be about your fuckin way |
Verse Two: Busta Rhymes |
Yo, everyday I see you on the block smoking |
With a bunch of niggaz scoping on how they can split you WIDE open |
You don’t even know what’s going on up in your circle |
Awful murder niggaz itch to leave you black blue and purple |
Ahh, your man came to put you on and tried to make you bleed |
Hit you with some shit that left you flippin mad in disbelief |
You just can’t believe that niggaz that you smoke with is on it |
And the way they rass they really got to bust yo’shit! |
Thought your man was joking, paid no attention to the situation |
Got with your crew and just continued smoking |
Now your man sit and watch you panic |
In any other situation you’d be fronting like you gigantic |
I guess all that fronting is your main talent |
It’s apparent, he can see right through you like you transparent |
Hah, aiyyo you need to watch your back you running out of time |
Watch your step, cuz you only inches from the finish line |
Verse Three: Busta Rhymes |
Now, there’s about a million motherfuckers on your trail |
Quick to bust your shit for every single time your words failed |
I’m watchin all the moves you makin fuck the speculatin |
Super-bitch nigga you just be fakin if I’m not mistakin |
Every move you fake you dig your grave a little deeper |
Come around me with that shit I’ma flip it to my brother’s keeper |
Listen to this: overstress my emphasis |
I insist to fix and bring the noise as long as I exist |
Now you walk around the streets with all that shit you speak |
And step inside the club just to receive the illest ass beating |
HOO! |
Take a look around you get no type of sympathy |
Impatiently, I sit and watch you die in your own iniquity |
Hah, now you out dead and stinkin, and your eyes are no longer blinkin |
Time caught up quick, with your little BITCH way of thinkin |
Ahh, watch you diminish, while your niggaz have to put a finish |
On your misleading false image |
Word is bond, bond is life |
You shall be willing to give your life |
Before your words shall fail |
All those who out there frontin, misleading they peoples |
Actin other than they really are |
It will catch up to you player, word is bond |
So that’s, specifically, to all those fake motherfuckers |
Living out here on that bullshit |
Trying to act like they know what the fuck’s going on |