[Busta Rhymes]
|
Flip Mode, Funk Flex Volume 3!
|
|
[Rampage]
|
It's like battle of the stars, spittin' bars
|
Foreign cars, never been to Mars
|
I'm the wizard of Oz, down to the yellow brick road
|
Flip Mode! Yo, we got this shit blowed
|
98 platinum an' the gold
|
I'm a dissector, 15 on the richter
|
Yo they owe me publishin' at Elektra
|
Don't let the Ramp wretch ya, I'm-a catch ya
|
My squad bring the pressure, new trend setter
|
Watch me get this cheddar, my life is gettin' better, WHA!
|
|
[Baby Sham]
|
Let me find out niggaz poppin' shit from the mouth
|
Post-ponin' some two macs that's spittin' from the holsters
|
You feel this cuz you chose this
|
I split wigs like the ocean, respect Moses
|
More clips to spit, Flip Mode runnin' this shit
|
So bounce to this, rollie on wrist
|
My platinum shit half wit' sin
|
See me in the club by the door bulgin' in
|
Rockin' the lin, my waves spin tight, dark skin
|
Baby Sham spittin' all in the mix on foul blends
|
Unhh...uhhh...
|
|
CHORUS:
|
[Busta] What ya'll niggaz wanna do right now?
|
[Flip Mode] We wanna do it again, we wanna do it again
|
[Busta] I..say...what my Flip Mode unit wanna do now?
|
[Flip Mode] We wanna do it again, again again and again
|
[Busta] I...say...do that shit
|
[Flip Mode] I say do that shit
|
[Busta] Uh-do that real live shit
|
[Flip Mode] Uh do that real live shit!
|
[Busta] You know we comin' through shit
|
[Flip Mode] You know we comin' thru shit
|
[Busta] Ay-yo we here to rule shit!
|
[Flip Mode] Ay-yo we here to rule shit!
|
|
[Rah Digga]
|
What?! You like the hooptie that ain't been test driven
|
I say fresh spittin', less stricken and cess ridden, WHAT?
|
Watch 'mira' mack the steez
|
Then I cut a bitch clean like I was Latin Queens
|
Digga on the track watch the sales quadruple
|
Flex like I'm feelin' it, red like my poo-poo!
|
Some shit with Fendi type galoshes
|
On some Rah-shit wit' real estate where the Taj is
|
Fuckin' with the Outz on the pre-product
|
Had this other click once but they reefer sucked
|
Well, time to blaze watch how I swing
|
Cuz I be mad like Max and merciless like Ming
|
|
[Spliff Star]
|
Interception, throw the microphone in my direction
|
Let me step to these pussies raw dog wit' no protection
|
Strokin' dem until they bleed and they can't breathe
|
Run up in they click with ten terrorizing theives
|
Ya'll niggaz is twat, my squad form like SWAT
|
Spliff Star comin' through ya like it or not
|
High off pot, make it hot like a coke plot
|
Refuse to lose, we keeps the flock, I'm earnin' my props, WHAT!
|
|
CHORUS
|
|
[Lord Have Mercy]
|
Ay-yo fuck dem and everything they love on this Earth
|
Keep 'em runnin' from birth til' the jet black bubble cris Hurst
|
And run a stick turf wit' double his purse
|
Hustlin' curse like pastors who got guns in the church
|
Ones in the church...hmmm...rum in the church
|
Dark, kissin' a worm til' they jugular burst
|
Speak last rites then kick the dust on them first
|
Kemosabe! Your arms too short to box with me
|
(For-geddit) Call shots wit' me (for-geddit)
|
Laugh now cry later, I kill beef like mad cow
|
My rhyme blaze up for nine acres...
|
|
[Busta Rhymes]
|
...get lucci, sport Gucci and stack papers
|
Tell me what's wrong nigga got yo face bent up
|
Beats fuck your head up even got yo mind messed up
|
Step up, I love when bitches get fly and dress up
|
(HA! What!) You best believe I (HA!) tear the rest up
|
When you finish clean the mess up, press up
|
Metaphor acid burn yo chest up
|
Who's the next up to be the fool to get the boxcutter X-er
|
Throwin' me off, you still be in labor, TURN Funkmaster Flex-uh!
|
|
[CHORUS]
|
|
[Funkmaster Flex] ...yeah, aaight? Busta Rhymes, Flip Mode Squad!
|
60 minutes! Flavor... Big shout to Monica for understandin' how
|
the Funk flex...Yeah...what the deal.
|
|
-----------------
|
Freestyle - Busta Rhymes & Flipmode Squad
|
| Funkmaster Flex |