Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Head Bussa, artist - N.O.R.E.. Album song God's Favorite, in the genre ПопDate of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Head Bussa |
| Head bussa… |
| Head bussa… |
| Head bussa… |
| Head bussa… |
| I don’t know 'bout you, but I’m a head bussa (head bussa) |
| Hey yo… |
| Yo, N-O-R, you can catch me in my favorite car (car) |
| Drop Lex, black truck, Gordo the Lazy R |
| I’m like a pitcher, I throw my hits crazy far |
| And if you is what you smoke then — hey y’all |
| I’m never faired up (faired up) I got some lead what (lead what) |
| And keeps some chicks in my whips and they always just fuck my head up |
| I’m like whatever God, ain’t a nigga better guard? |
| I rock a Neptunes beat like it’s a leather garm |
| Know about you, but I’m a bed crusher |
| See I don’t know about you, but I’m a head bussa |
| You see it’s God Favorite, he built the project bricks |
| Chicks love us anyway, cause we just make hits |
| No Re-my, I’m good with just water and fish |
| Thugged out Militainment see we focused — bitch |
| Stand strong in the pain, see me hold my pivot |
| Or you can catch me in LA, with a Mexican midget |
| Yo, yo… |
| See I’m a Philly nigga, I can’t fuck wit a dutch chick |
| Automatic whips, can’t fuck wit a clutch shit |
| Jo-se (Jose) I’m so relaxed it seems |
| The first nigga sellin’cracks through a fax machine |
| Shit Star Tek (Star Tek) I hold my gun in the raids |
| And I can make planes crash through a two-way page |
| Niggas stack like, act like I ain’t made mad classics |
| Like I’m a new artist, demerit these rat bastards |
| But that’s aight cause I’m a still make more |
| And I could sell bad work, still say that it’s raw |
| I make songs for the poor niggas |
| The most grimey and raw niggas, the ki-ki-kickin'your door niggas |
| Go arm wrestle next, see whose neck I break |
| I send my little man home (dude go home man) have to check out late |
| She a bed crusher, see I’m a bad person |
| Duh… |
| Ain’t a damn — thing the same |
| Look, I’m a see if ya sayin’my name (N-O-R) |
| Millionaires, that change the game |
| That got 9/11 clouds (clouds) and bullets that grain |
| Don’t calm down (down) this is soldier game (fa'sho nigga) |
| Kill for money, the raw and the caine |
| Let me, see you flag, the color of car nigga |
| Fix your fingers, show me what you are |
| See I’m a head bussa (bussa) it ain’t hard to tell |
| That I’m a keep makin’hits, it ain’t hard to sell |
| And them Def Jam niggas put that paper behind us We left that other label, and the hatin’behind us Niggas want beef, it ain’t hard to find us We in the 'Lac Truck, them niggas in Path-Finders and-uh |
| The crime scene like N.O.R.E., N.O.R.E. |
| People wanna scream they like N.O.R.E., N.O.R.E. |
| Man, I’m outta’town my niggas travel, too |
| We in LA getting’sucked off in Malibu |
| A new-car, ask the Jake, they call me «no shit» |
| Cause everytime they question me, I don’t know shit |
| And hold this, yea nigga just know this |
| I always drink Henny, hardly know the 'Cris |
| Straight monster-wrist, I keep a ill beat |
| And niggas hardly like you, your shit still weak |