yo, it all began like, bust it
My nigga City bout to bounce on a trip
We met some niggas with alot of things they want em to flip
I told my nigga get the dough and keep the blau 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 wit
But when I get back, I’ma bounce straight to your crib
On the strength, son slid until you 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 collapsible, stashable 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
Throwin a nigga on the walls and try to search me down
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 chains swung a medallion iced out pelicans
And how they stay wit four pounders
And speak American to try to blend in
Like they aint obvious out of towners
Okay, I’ve never heard of workers gettin five G’s pay
For trips that last for only 2-3 day
How these Guyanese niggas be eatin pasta but they love zucchini
Rockin valor tennis suits by Sergio Tecchini
Them type of cats that call you because you can’t call ’em
Rockin baseball fitters 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 bubbling 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
[Intermission]
“Ayo why don’t you tell that crackhead to close the fuckin door
and shut the fuck up”
“Yeah man and clean the motherfucking spot up, smell like…”
“Break the fuckin breakdown in the working city… yo go get the plates
and the gym star”
“Yo light that up, lemme hit that, gimme a light, yeah man cut that”
“Fuck this shit”
[Busta Rhymes]
Yeah, see how we blowin pa
The lookout 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 will catch the most brutal beatin
The whole town, see we now own it
Carryin on and blemishing all in the hearts of the best moments
We stackin cheddar now and shit is all clear
And we was growin as workin niggas wit aspiring ideas
We love to floss and the feeling of pushing chrome shit
But in the grand scheme these niggas’ll 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 Husid
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 bi
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