Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song You Busta , by - KXNG Crooked. Release date: 02.01.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
You Busta |
| When I enter the mist |
| I’m the reason that the pendulum shifts |
| You wouldn’t right with a intricate twist if I didn’t exist |
| I’m the difference |
| You know I’m death I give you a kiss if you slippin' |
| When I’m in the room I make lyricist dig deeper |
| Open they notebook look over they shoulder |
| And see the Grim Reaper |
| People done stole my rhymes so many times |
| I done heard my lines in nine battle raps and ten features |
| Six Funk Flex freestyles, hold it now |
| Rappers y’all be calling the GOAT be using a stolen style |
| From the golden child |
| It’s like I went to Fogo de Chão |
| Crooked’s ready to beef with the Gods I’m eating holy cow |
| I turn your Mount Rushmore into a volcano |
| Flow hotter than lava you nada but it’s all bueno |
| Y’all actors like John Stamos and Clark Gable |
| The dark angel with a COB flag singing the Star-Spangled |
| Bustas |
| Flipmode |
| I been flippin' for fifty one weeks and my shit’s cold |
| Dizz done flipped fifty one beats it’s a big load |
| You can’t hear bars like these on a hit song |
| I rhyme |
| Busta |
| Flipmode |
| I’m on some forever shit I’ma never get old |
| I’m on some eloquent intelligent ghetto shit |
| Mixed with black excellence |
| Talking that yellow brick road like |
| Diana Ross I am a boss |
| No more smoke talk unless it’s from the Porche |
| Cayenne exhaust |
| (Skrrt) |
| Jingle bells fuck your single sells |
| I don’t mingle well |
| With mainstream artists I see a male Tinker Bell |
| With a dress on and press on fingernails we can tell |
| You’ll never be Chappelle |
| You ain’t willing to lose money just to keep yourself |
| We excel we prevail be ourselves |
| 'Fore I lay with you devils I rather sleep in hell |
| New slaves drinking out of massa’s fountain |
| Can’t handle freedom well |
| Batch of rappers from here to Minneapolis |
| I slap 'em backwards my spit is immaculate |
| No rapping after |
| My city is hazardous I pack a clapper |
| I’m sick as a masochist |
| Slashing his own Adam’s apple for sexual pleasure |
| The Weeklys are a intellectual treasure |
| That effect you forever same texture as leather |
| It’s rough |
| Busta |
| Flipmode |
| I been flippin' for fifty one weeks and my shit’s cold |
| Dizz done flipped fifty one beats it’s a big load |
| You can’t hear bars like these on a hit song |
| I rhyme |
| Busta |
| Flipmode |
| I’m on some forever shit I’ma never get old |
| I’m on some eloquent intelligent ghetto shit |
| Mixed with black excellence |
| Talking that yellow brick road like |
| Diana Ross I am a boss |
| No more smoke talk unless it’s from the Porsche |
| Cayenne exhaust |
| (Skrrt) |
| Yeah |
| I couldn’t shout everybody out |
| But I love all y’all |
| One week left! |