| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| Yeah, for all you motherfuckers, across the whole entire galaxy
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| Busta Rhymes, and the whole entire Flipmode Squad
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| Back at y’all motherfuckers in 1997
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| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| Ha, when disaster strikes, when disaster strikes
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| Take a look and sit on the sidelines and bear witness, ha
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| On and on, return from the future like a centurion
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| All my affiliates, .et's stack another mil-li-on
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| While you learn on how the words go to my motherfuckin' song Watch me puts it on
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| It keeps you open all day long
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| (The way we fuck shit up you thinkin' something must be wrong)
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| Set the high standards for corny niggas to get the gong
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| Bleach your ass blonde and black your color back to bronze
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| On happy days, I be the coolest nigga like The Fonz
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| So spectacular how I touch souls from here to Africa
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| My Zimbabwe niggas bangin' my joints up in they Acura
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| Ooh, nigga, you feel the bump from bumper to bumper
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| Drivin' imported five hundreds in foreign license plate numbers
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| Ha-ha, laugh at ya, oh, me and my passengers
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| Flip ass niggas over quick like frying pan spatulas
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| (Why do you be wastin' your time, being mad at us?)
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| Every voice should sing and help the music sound miraculous
|
| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| Yes, yes, y’all, Flipmode Squad y’all
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| We reign supreme in 1997
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| When disaster strikes, you will all feel
|
| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| When disaster strikes, you will all see
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| When disaster strikes, you will all bear witness
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| To the Most High Exalted
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| Yo, I keeps flows so ridiculous
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| Rhyme flow taste good like a handful of cherry licorice
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| Practice your rhyme or be the local practitionist
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| Well, you can try being a doctor or being a local obstetricianist
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| See, you can be somethin'
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| Quit tryin to work so fuckin' hard towards nothin
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| This rhyme shit was never de signed for every swollen muffin
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| Yo, I’m singin'…
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| Why y’all niggas think that y’all could really see my Squad?
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| And if we hit you hard, that’s when you feel the power of the God
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| Do it right, and big up my peeps and A-Alikes
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| On alike, repel, especially feel when disaster strikes
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| Extremely delicate like the blowing out of candlelights
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| The quiet killing surprises niggas whenever they wanna fight
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| That type of shit that shine, and blind a nigga eyesight, a’ight?
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| We keepin' it tight, y’all niggas don’t want it right?
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| You will never ever get no wins inside mi casa
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| We killin' all impostors like we killin' cucarachas
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| Bounce to award ceremonies like we winnin' Oscars
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| Rhymin' Rastasg eating enough exotic pasta, ha, yo
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| (We keep it movin' for all of y’all)
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| Freak y’all niggas out while I’m makin' y’all niggas fall
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| Disaster will hit ya quick anytime you wanna brawl
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| Perm press a nigga back, peel them off the wall
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| So tell me, why do you be wastin' your time, being mad at us?
|
| Every voice should sing, and help the music sound miraculous
|
| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| Ha, oh yes, y’all
|
| This situation has now been brought before your very eyes
|
| And as we carry on Flipmode Squad continues to conquer the world
|
| (Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la
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| Tra-la-la-la-la, tra-la-la-la-la)
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| When disaster strikes, you will all fear
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| When disaster strikes, you will all bear witness
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| To the Most High Exalted, ha |