A Trip Out of Town

Lyrics

[Part 1: Skit – Man 1 & Man 2] 'Sup Can't wait to make my trip outta town, son Serious right now... Serious, baby, we gon' do it, son All them bitches, twistin' that tower, word Tryna get this paper... [Announcer] Attention, all passengers –  This is the last call of the bus leaving to Norfolk, Virginia Arriving in 10 minutes, leaving from Gate G13 That's gate G13, to Norfolk, Virginia [Spliff Star & various men] Ayo, ayo, here's y'all niggas' tickets, man (Aight) Bus leavin' right now (No doubt) Ayo, listen to me, man –  When y'all get on the bus, y'all niggas don't even sit together Act like y'all don't know each other Like you're undercover on the motherfuckin' bus (Yeah) Or somethin', know what I mean? (No doubt) When y'all get there, an' all – Fucker, y'all gon' hit the terminal, kna'imean My nigga Ty gon' pick y'all up, know what I'm sayin'? Take y'all to this hustlin' spot we got out there Newton Park, out on Norfolk, you know what I mean? (Most def', most def') Where the money is proper, the hustle is proper, you know what I mean? (Uh-huh, straight gangsta) Want you to go out there, y'all handle your business, man, you know what I'm sayin'? (Alright) Straight like that, aight? (No doubt, baby) One love, man (Peace) [Man 1, Man 2, (Busta Rhymes)] One, baby (Okay) Get up with you, man I'll miss you, get out (Call me, call me) [Part 2: A Trip Out of Town] [Verse 1] Yo, it all began like... bust it My nigga City 'bout to bounce on a trip We met some niggas with a lot of things they wanted to flip I told my nigga, "Get the dough and keep the blaow on your hip Travel safe, you know that I'ma hold it down on the strip" "Good lookin'" "Word to mother, son, I give you my whip But when I get back, I'ma bounce straight to your crib" On the strength, son slid and took it to the Greyhound Wit' a burner in the knapsack, headed straight outta town Now, three days pass, I'm still on the strip Doin' hand-to-hand with twelve capsule, stash-able clips With little magnets on the side of the clips, we planted like a project When police come, we stick the clips in any metal object ("Hey, freeze! Don't move! What you doin' up out here?") Throwin' a nigga on the walls and try to search me down ("Show me some ID") I laugh, knowin' that my stash'll never be found Well, anyway, on the third day, son came straight to the strip Wit' a new floss and shiny shoes on the whip My nigga hit me with the latest, greatest He told me, "Get inside the whip," so I can know just what the up-to-date is He said he fuckin' wit' some Guyanese niggas, how ill them niggas is What kind of dough they get, and how they handle they biz How they connect with Jamaician niggas who speak American And how they changed from medallions to iced-out pelicans And how they stay wit' four pounders And speak American to try to blend in Like they ain't obvious out-of-towners Okay, I've never heard of workers gettin' 5 G's pay For trips that last for only 2-3 day How his Guyanese niggas be eatin' pasta, but they love zucchini Rockin' valour tennis suits by Sergio Tacchini Them type of cats that call you, because you can't call 'em Rockin' baseball fitteds with wild animal skins on 'em How they rock silks and tailor-made pants And get a matching Bally shoe for the silk to step in the dance Washrags hangin' from every one of our back pockets From every fine wine to champagne, them niggas'll straight cop it And set up shops in them neighborhoods that was residential Rock laced whips, while the workers'll floss the latest rentals How they fuck with arrogant bitches who act pussy And love to hustle wit' niggas and stash coke up in they pussy After all of that, I wanted ones The way my nigga was talkin', so next trip I went to bounce with son So now we out of town with Guyanese cats Up in they gates bubblin' packages and layin' wit' gats Shit was slow until the main fiend was offed Just like a thief in the night And spread the word that we was back with the white [Interlude: Busta Rhymes & various men] Ayo, why don't you tell that crackhead to close the fuckin' door And shut the fuck up? Yeah, man, and clean the motherfuckin' spot up, smell like... (Shit, shit) Break the fuckin' breakdown in the work And, City, yo – go get the plates and the Gemstar Yo, light that up, lemme hit that, gimme a light, yeah, man, cut that Fuck this shit [Verse 2: Busta Rhymes, ongoing background story] Yeah, see how we blowin', pa? The look-out niggas holdin' fort like they was watchtowers Buggin' on how we went through a half a brick every couple of hours So on, and so on – shit is good and we eatin' First nigga to short a package'll catch the most brutal beatin' The whole town see we now own it Carryin' on and blemishin' all in the hearts of the best moments We stackin' cheddar now and shit is all clear That we was growin' as workin' niggas wit' aspiring ideas We love to floss and the feelin' of pushin' chrome shit But in the grand scheme, these niggas'd love to have they own shit Now these niggas was really ready to swell up We decided to separate from them niggas and make our shit develop Off in to the wilderness of the wicked Hassid We set up shops and watched the games begin So now we ballin' like a motherfucker, money was sick Gas on the cheddar and these bitches ridin' the dick Fuckin' everything from the local McDonald bitches with the biggest ass To attorney bitches that'll beat a charge fast We used to takin' niggas' custies and leave they set up on tilt (Ayo, bring custies to me, I'ma hit you off – you over, boy, aight?) And watch 'em angrily scheme on the shit that we built Ain't it funny how shit transpire? In fact Not too long after our ride we took, the winner's stash house was at Some niggas tried to run a jook with things in they palm (With issues again! Shit can't happen!) Not a problem, so immediately reach for the John (Feelin' this, motherfuck, you mean?) Right away, the gun bust, straight lifted a nigga How we moved his organs with kickback – shifted a nigga (Ah, what? Y'all niggas wanna play? What! What!) Wild shots fire, everybody scatter like rats Leavin' nothing but gun powder and a trail of smoke in these gats Now we got this faggot nigga blood on our hands (Yeah) But fuck it, determined to fulfill the best of these plans (Fuck you mean, we doin'?) Shit was hot, but we was nowhere near ready to fall My son said he shot, but he wasn't bleedin' at all (Alright, son? C'mon) Word, I started buggin' when my nigga said he feel cold Then I looked up on the right side of his shirt and found a little hole So as we continue to radically blaze the fifth Flame the iron, not giving a fuck, y'all niggas wanna rip? Well, we deaded three out of the four niggas who tried to jook One nigga slid and think he got off the hook (Yeah) Now let me find out one out of them three niggas we bodied Was one of them Guyanese niggas who buy drinks up for the party He was the nigga to flood the table with champagnes Stupid motherfucker tried to front, we had to leak his brain (Fuckers!) Suddenly my nigga fell to the floor And said his legs feel like them shits ain't got no feelings no more More the actin' up, the more the shit I felt in my gut (Get up) The shit was all over as soon as the director said, "Cut!" [Outro] That's a wrap! Good actin', motherfuckers, good actin' That's the shit I'm talkin' about Y'all ready to watch the playback? Fuck around, that shit be a box office smash, motherfuckers Ehehe... {*applause*}