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Uh.. uh uh uh uh |
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Uh.. wait a minute now |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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Uh, uh.. |
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Can you hear me out there? |
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Lunatics.. is y'all ready? |
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Let me hear ya |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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I'ma sucka for corn rows and manicured toes (hey) |
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Fendi capri pants and Parasuco's (alright) |
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High sadity in the city, with one or two throws |
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I'm droppin 'em outta high school straight into the pros |
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Who knows? I know! |
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And I love it when you make your knees touch your elbows |
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And break it down low to the flo', and there you go |
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Now throw it on me slow |
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And everytime I + Busta Rhyme +, baby "Gimme Some Mo'" |
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You say you like that, when I hit it from behind |
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And I'll be right back; yeah that's my very next line |
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I use it - time after time, when I'm speakin my mind |
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It's no matter if I'm shootin game to a pigeon or dime |
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I ask her, "Who dat is, talkin that shit about the 'tics?" |
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Somebody probably jealous cause they bitch got hit |
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But ain't nobody else droppin shit like this |
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Should we apologize? Nan fuck 'em, just leave 'em pissed, HEY! |
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Andele andele mami, E.I. E.I. |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What's poppin tonight |
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Andele andele mami, E.I. E.I. |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! If the head right, Nelly there ery'night |
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We can gamble to the break of dawn, nigga |
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Money long, nigga |
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Pass up the skirt to talk to the thong, nigga |
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Some say I'm wrong, but fuck it I'm grown, nigga |
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If you ain't bout money then best be gone, nigga |
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I'm fast (uh) double takes when you walk past me |
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Nasty, don't be scared boo, go 'head and ask me |
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I drive fastly, call me Jeff Gord-on |
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In the black SS with the naviga-tion |
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See the joint blaz-on, somethin smells amaz-on |
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I got a chick rollin up, half black and asi-an |
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Another one pag-in, tellin me to come home |
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Her husband on vacation and left her home alone |
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I used the V-12, powers; weight loss, powers |
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From + Phat Farm + to + Iceberg Slim + in one shower |
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Get a room in Trump Towers just to hit the P hours |
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Kicked the bitch up out the room cause she used the word ours, HEY! |
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Aiyyo I smash-mouth a whole ounce, of that sticky |
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Wash my hands under a gold spout, when feelin icky |
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Let go off in a ho's mouth, I ain't picky |
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Start frontin when the shows out - whatchu mean?! |
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Twenty inches when they roll ouuuuuuut - come and get me |
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Big faces when they fold ouuuuuuut - is you wit me? |
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Don't make me pull that fo'-fo' ouuuuuuut |
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I keep it closer when the dough ouuuuuuut |
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Then I slide up in the Escalade |
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Me and E gettin solid like the Ice Capades |
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And me and Heezy - frosty, project mo' wrapped up than Bugsy |
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You understand me, wrapped wrists like mummies |
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If you compare me to your local grocery |
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Then you'll see I got more carrots/karats than "Aisle D" |
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More bread than "Aisle G", then bag and scan me |
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+ Sure + like + Al B. +, meet the 'tics in Maui, HEY! |
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St. Louis y'all, uh, uh |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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Uh, can you feel that? |
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Lunatics y'all, uh, uh |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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Uh, uh, Uncle Phil up above y'all, uh, uh |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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Yell it universal y'all, uh, uh |
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Uh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! |
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Uh, uh, chillin chillin chillin with the crew y'all |
