| What, what, yo, you know Nore, type a nigga stay real trump
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| I ain’t the type to fight a nigga, just blaze you up
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| What the fuck? |
| All you niggas wanna say what, what
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| While you half way thugs sounding half way butt
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| If you ain’t with Busta Bus then shut the fuck up
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| Niggas is snakes, in other words just like jakes
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| Yo, I sell raps, used to sell crack on crates
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| Its like a stock that shot, oh look what it dropped
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| Yo, I hate to have to send my niggas all in you spot
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| Like Spliff Star, shootin' right all in your car
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| Busta Bus plug the engine, with bananas
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| Even if they lose our sight we still got cameras
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| We play the game like the movie, smoke Lucy
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| B.I.G. |
| gone, but my favorite song still Juicy
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| Yo, ya-yo, yo closed caption, son don’t even know what’s happenin'
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| Before the 2nd thought, make you feel the wrath of my clappin'
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| (Boom!) Fire flashin;, two holes up in your head matchin'
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| Dope fiend in the corner, itch from eight scars scratchin'
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| (Huh) We make the nutter butter, thick creamy shit from the gutter
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| Paranoid these niggas, flip and make they heartbeat flutter
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| You’s a sucker, (ha) lace you up with my box-cutter
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| Your mother love your other son like you ain’t even his brother
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| Pussy nigga, I flip up to the max on you, nigga
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| Pose the violent threat immediately, black on you nigga
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| Ski maskin', fuck whatever question you askin
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| Busta Rhyme and Nore connect on the train, we attachin
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| Hold your corner, violatin 'cross the border (huh)
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| Try to catch my jewel, spyin with your tape recorder
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| Fuck is wrong with you?! |
| Don’t you know we raw till the end?
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| Battlefield shit, Flipmode Squad, CNN
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| Chorus: Busta Rhymes (Noreaga)
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| Busta Rymes (What, what!) Noreaga (What, what!) Flipmode (What, what!)
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| Thugged Out (What, what!) Spliff Star (What, what!) Busta Rhymes (What, what!)
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| Noreaga (What, what!) Thugged Out (What, what!) Flipmode (What, what!)
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| Busta Rhymes (What, what!) Noreaga (What, what!) Thugged Out (What, what)
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| Spliff Star (What, what!) Flipmode (What, what!) Busta Rhymes (What, what!)
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| Noreaga (What, what!)
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| (What, what) Yo, it’s the same as any, in this game you wanna lose
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| Jump out the Ac, run up with the Uz', don’t move Magically Maze
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| Lyrically invade like a SWAT raid, top grade rockin wallaby suede
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| I’m always coppin, poppin, three in the air
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| For my niggas not here
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| Locked in Whitney, tipsies
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| Specifically, and twist me when its Cristy
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| Let me go again, make sure the shits soakin
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| Thugged Out and Flipmode is like next of kin
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| Yo, we do what up, sendin em niggas that will screw it up
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| What! |
| Handle your business, God, even if? |
| Kalu? |
| what up
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| I rock Clarks, on and off, like John Starks
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| What? |
| Shoot at your face, God, aim at your heart
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| Yo, from Indiana to Atlanta, God we got this
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| Jose Luis, thugs just put me in the hotlist
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| I rip shows, but never gotta go at hoes
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| Stay travellin, playin click, just stay froze
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| I got the left arm, stay in the game like Montan'
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| My thug charm is everywhere now, dot com
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| Hear me anytime, you can access it
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| W dot Nore, yo, suck my dick
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| Peep me with Akinyele, yo, fuckin for free
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| On some thug shit, my thugs stay fuckin with me
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| What!
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| Yo, every battle
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| Nigga I got your gat, so let me splatter
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| Into smithereens
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| Throw some bullets in his jeans
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| Another thug story, I bust my gun for Nore
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| Snap a nigga neck, now the law lookin for me
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| I’m thugged out, bugged out, blow your fucking mug out
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| No di-doubt, I see you can’t eat what you dish out
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| Watch, I reach in your soul, nigga and pull the bitch out
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| Watch my tech rise, feel the shells that it spit out
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| I’m warning you, send twenty niggas deep to corner you
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| Dressed in black
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| From Brook' to Iraq
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| Blastin Mack 10's, I be killin ya Benz
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| Live coverage at ten, on CNN
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| Chorus *order differs slightly*
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| What, what! |