paroles de chanson N.T. - Busta Rhymes , Q-Tip

For real though who really got sick though
On the edge got the ledge hangin′ out of the window
Bird chest niggas witcha winderous fearaf
Fuck around you'll be against me the size of a meal sack

Cutie little bucks better hit the jake
But that doesn′t mean nothin' to the heart within
You cramped up you and your team I'm amped up
And you asses can′t dip my B

My shine what the fuck is on your mind?
Little weak link rappers better hit the grind
Other brothers ain′t motivated they can't do it
Not only the opposite train it I ran through it

My music comes on and we march at the dance
Inside of your mind or inside of my pants?
Use a cruel intention that we have is bad
You sick? Drink a NyQuil when I′m bed on your ass

Oh well, then here comes the gelatin
Tips on some sugars but you yap on your sellin' friends
Now your party is completely blown
Real name is Kamal, I′ll make him peep his own

It's rap time for you that means nap time
Preachin′ from my joint what the fuck I'ma clap mine
Singin' songs in 6 pens with sit tensed
Surprised your ass is the end like the sixth sense

Heavy hitters knockin′ shit out the park
You didn′t even really play tell me why did you start
Spittin' sharp blades lakes with bleach
You wanna play around kid I′m not a walk at the beach

A stroll in the park or your fuckin' playground
Put on your headphones and tell me how grenades sound
Put on your walkmase and go underneath the town
Q-Tip abstract how I gets down

All my bitches, dance if you know that you dam sure
Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna
(Get down)
Fuck that niggas will bust gats
Better lit a make for their rush that ′cause they wanna
(Get down)

Blick shit piano sick shit
(Get down)
Chill you can get off my dick and
(Get down, get down)
While I'm on the hook get on your good foot
And blow up the spot for all of you niggas ′cause that's how we
(Oh yeah, get down)

Comin' with the brand new quickly we pant to
The young black man with intentions to band you
See that people need a age in things
So many paid their ways so many paean to stay

I really rhyme ′cause I feel I should say things
By the fortunate act rap just so they cop rings
Or maybe because when they was young
They was fronted on a life alone that have their own fun

Now their all grown up to be assholes
I′m giving you the rope will you tie tassels?
You swing dingaling for peas trees
While I sip my Dacarees in the south west breeze

Writings so exciting the pen it keeps
Drippin' out jings that′s converted to hems and them
People be hummin' in formality next to kin
My family is starvin′? You know they want me to win

We forfeit nigga please get off it
Send a check on my name to my office
Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it
Abstract comin' through witness abortion

Hey yo, hey yo engineer cut the fuckin′ beat off