Straight Spittin

Lyrics

[Intro: Rampage] Yeah, huh Uh [Verse 1: Rampage] I'll bust all you cats in the game for malpractice I'm in Jersey (Uh), where I'm playin', no taxes I'll stick your girl, Agnus (Uh), Flipmode bring the madness (Madness) Platinum status (Uh), Rampage I'm the baddest (Baddest) Check the credit (Uh), yo, you might as well dead it I said it (What?), fuck the edit, it's uncut (Cut) Nigga what? (What?) It's crunch time for me to shine (Shine) I'ma show you easily for me to take mines Pass my nickel (Uh) plated nine (Nine), call me Einstein (-Stein) I'm buckin' shot (Uh) two times and stick you for your rhymes (Rhymes) Put you in a pine box, yo, and your whole family's on detox Hustlin' cracks (Uh) and Reeboks (Uh) Holy socks (Yeah), cut you with my ox (Ox) Rampage got the city locked And yo' function (Uh), to the Flat Bush junction Causing rambunction (Uh), watch me do you somethin' (Uhh) [Verse 2: Baby Sham] Baby Sham on some new shit, new and exclusive 5'3", caramel, tight grip on a four fifth Leave 'em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul drift Nigga with the 6 story, throw 'em off the cliff As I speak the shit to put my name on the list (What? What?) The small thug with a slug put a mark on his wrist A tattoo of pyramids, puttin' hollows in clips Peeped your gat, jammed tight, Ross you lookin' to riff (Uh, uh!) QB's type shit, cause we runnin' your clique See me in the drop, with your six, sayin' she snitched But never that, cuz-o, high beams through the window (Uh) My lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast those Got a safe in your crib, Sham, you know the code Search, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that's zero Took the c-notes and Flipmode left on the quietest note Swallowed these then clear your throat, bitch ass (Woo!), you should have spoke [Verse 3: Busta Rhymes & Baby Sham] (Gimme a F!) Fuck the bullshit (Uh), fire my gun Fly a nigga head, fuck it for fun, fuck where you from (Gimme a L!) Layin' on beaches, killin' all leeches Love to break a liar face, pick up the pieces, yo (Gimme the I!) Intelligence eliminates all irrelevance Icon of immaculate rhyme common sense (Gimme a P!) Powerful professional poppin' my pistol (Hah) Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pit bulls (Gimme a M!) Master of all missions (Hah), maker of decisions Head on collisions, massacre the meat rack, ask the women (Gimme the O!) Got niggas open, open heart surgery Rhyme so official, overthrow governments, shit is nursery (Gimme a D!) Diggin' my dick all inside your chick Dominate the heavyweight division rhymin' district (Gimme a E!) Everlastin' slang, eternal ebonics Lyrical e-mail, stabilise livin' in all my economics (Squad!) Group of men, women, unified force, squadron (Hah) Movin' like one in unison, I beg your pardon (Huuuuh!) [Verse 4: Rah Digga & Spliff Star] What they call me, a hundred on a Harley (Yeah) Out of nowhere and keep reserving like Brawley (What?) Marley! I'm the bitch with the histo' (Yeah...) Woody Woodpecker or L.L. at the Bristol Official stand, hold it down in Trent (Yeah...) Then link up at the tunnel with the rest of my camp (I got) Paper like Meade, I'm in the mix like Speed And be screamin' on the mic 'til my tonsils bleed (Yeah) Yeah, that's the way (Uh!) it is like when a kid get christened (Yeah) Like comin' to the bricks to find your whip missin' Rocking uptown, on down to west Howston Houston (Fuck it!), peace to my bitches that's boostin' After juicin', I'm a straight black ball (Damn!) a rapper (Uh) Tap a nigga's nerves like them hackers (Uh-huh) Be going on the modem (Yeah), I get the call from the dispatcher (Uh-huh) Then show them (Yo! Yeah) motherf'ers what I'm (Yo!) after [Verse 5: Spliff Star & Busta Rhymes] Yo, I back slap a whack MC for tryin' to be Something he not, pull his card, blow up his spot Nigga talkin' 'bout murder but ain't committin' none (Uh-huh) Niggas talkin' 'bout gats but ain't bustin' one (Uh-huh) Yo, I see you in the club portraying like you a thug (Uh-huh) Yeah, your man got a gat, but he ain't bustin' nare slug You's a local black spokesman, I split your front open (Aight) Vicious knife wound, fucked up like Ron Goldman Spliff, I split, fully equipped for any bullshit Grew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit Ignorant, vulgar, on your tape recorder (A-what?) Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter Fatman son (Yes), milted grandson (Uh-huh) Shirley nephew, Franky cousin (Uh-huh) One more time (Uh-huh) Spliff (Ah-hah), come on, son Bust my gun (Uh-huh), like Colombians (Yeah) Make niggas collapse like fucked up lungs [Verse 6: Lord Have Mercy] Better obey the law of the land (Ahh) Or lay still like soldiers of fortune in Nam Closed coffin with flags folded in half Triangular shape, blow out the candles with grace For fabulous tastes, some'll, battle for space Pay the ultimate price, poltergeist Put the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to Christ Focus your dice, when the vulture's in flight Resculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium bite Prophet in vein (Hah!), Metropolis claim body and soul ID's controlled in the optical frame Never stoppin' the game, remove your squad with steady plans I body slam punks like Superstar Billy Gramm [Outro: Busta Rhymes] Straight spittin', hot street shit, lyrically We spittin', niggas don't know how we gettin' on down Spittin', straight spittin' Word is bond, we straight spittin' Flipmode Squad, niggas is rhymin' and spittin' Fuck shit up everywhere, we straight spittin' Lyrical ass whippin', nigga, straight spittin' We straight spittin' We straight spittin'