Wussdaplan (Original Promo Sampler Version)

Lyrics

Cella Dwellas - "Wussdaplan (Original Promo Sampler Version)" [Emcee(s): Phantasm and U.G.] [Producer(s): Cella Dwellas (Phantasm & U.G.)] [Keyboards: DJ Slice] [Intro: Cella Dwellas] Phantasm: Heads better recognize the flavor. CDs coming through U.G.: Yeah, yeah, Cella Dwellas like that. yeah, yeah! Know'm saying? Recognize Phantasm: What's up in New Orleans? U.G.: Yeah, what's the plan in Japan, nah'mean? Phantasm: Out in the Carolinas? U.G.: Word up, in VA, what? Phantasm: Out in Florida U.G.: You know'm saying? All over, we're representing, you know'm saying? Letting y'all know how we do, son Phantasm: Yeah U.G.: But you know what? Bless 'em real quick [Verse 1: Phantasm] Phantasm, Cella Dwellas repping, no question Duck Down in Bucktown when I draw Smif-N-Wessun These crab emcees, their "Time's Up"—quoted by O.C They're faking jacks and they're Pussycat like Josie The G-lock spits hot shots and rock niggas' knots The infrared to the head means X marks the spot, guns Clap, wigs get pushed back when I let off big Caps and ride beats like Amtraks. If you Need tracks like these, lace The Dwellas with four G's We won't charge you eight joints and five royalty points (Yeah) Any man I'll slaughter (Slaughter). Glad I got a son Not a daughter, thinking 'bout this five-and-a-quarter BM. See, them fronting niggas is crabs. When I Bust AKs like Arabs, they get peeled like scabs Every time I speak shit, I freak shit CDs always coming with that unique shit Ha! [Verse 2: U.G.] Son Don't sweat it. Automatic embedded in my waistline Taste wine, hang with cats that do crime Two nines like Larry Fishburne in Deep Cover Puta, shoot ya, knock off your future Dreams of bellies and cream, money wrapped in rubber bands And money clips, trips, cruises around the globe Tommy robe, open-toed slippers, FILA See eyes thick, fly like an insect. Inject Sick thoughts, Polo sport, fragrance lingering (Yeah) [?] on my finger and (Yeah) Gucci [?] jingling (True) Mingling with thugs with scarred mugs as trademarks To spark lye, exhale and smoke with a wigged eye (Uh huh) Think I can't keep it real or we're faking (What?) Jacks? Hit you with the MAC and leave your body shaking Face-down, blowing bubbles in dirty puddles Of water. I slaughter kids [?] Aaahhh! [Interlude: Cella Dwellas] Phantasm: Phantasm and U.G U.G.: Word up, representing Phantasm: True lyrical skills U.G.: Know'm saying? Phantasm: Out in London U.G.: Word up, in Europe and all that, you nah'mean? Phantasm: Ha! [Verse 3: Phantasm] Back again, it's The Cella-to-the-Dwella, Phan-to-the-tasm Tall-to-the-Man, U.-to-the-G. What's the plan? I got skills for years and start to ill When I down more beers than Norm from Cheers Here we go, yo. What's the "Scenario" like Tribe and Leaders, lighting niggas up with the heaters Props for blocks and block skins, flocks and flocks Guns, Glocks, and Glocks. Girls? I got 'em locked Who crew wants to test? Then you'll get tossed like salad Dressing 'cause we be the best in this profession—that's No question. Fuck every station that fronted on Airplay When they know the Dwellas do damage like x-rays Some think sex plays an important role in hip hop But I won't stop 'til I get my props and have shit locked like Fort Knox All I need is my nigga U.G., an MPC, and an SP Good promotion, two videos, and we'll rule the industry Who you be? Your homies got you gassed like Getty. We got You charged like Eveready. Talking "let's battle"? That shit is petty You got no clout, no name, no label. This is Food on my table. Nigga, your highest bill is cable I'm out, but no doubt I'll be back again. Phan- -tasm, Cella Dwellas representing Brooklyn [Verse 4: U.G.] Check it Gats pop like champagne tops on New Year's At foes, packed shows get slammed like dominoes—hah! Flows composed to off-beat head-bop or make Pit-stops, my neck drops when the snare pops—hah! My vocabs jab like Ali backpedaling I'm quick to snap a n… dressed with some vice grips Why I snip smart-aleck emcees like scissors For pleasure, then (*Fighting sounds*) like Wu-Tang's records I pack heat like the Sun (Yeah), niggas get done When the pum-pum gets flung from the gun (Yeah) No bullshitting (What?), I'll pull quick, reload, then fill a Nine, then bust shots like John Woo in The Killer I slay (Yeah) any emcee in my way—uh! (Uh huh) With more troops than Princess Leia from Star Wars To scar foe emcees. What's the plan? I walk on my hands and kill with my Timberlands What, what, what, what?!? [Outro: Cella Dwellas] Phantasm: What's the plan? U.G.: What's the plan? Phantasm: Out in Atlanta? U.G.: You nah'mean? Word up, what's the… Phantasm: Chi Town? U.G.: Yeah, yeah, you know'm saying? San Francisco? You nah'mean, what's the plan? Phantasm: LA? U.G.: Texas, you nah'mean? Phantasm: Out in DC? U.G.: Out in Boston? Nah'mean? What's the plan out in.. Phantasm: Philly? U.G.: Philadelphia, you nah'mean? Big up to my man Tim Westwood Phantasm: And we're out