Busta Rhymes - There's Not a Problem My Squad Can't Fix текст песни

Come on, yeah

Villain, come on

Aiight, I got this side right here

Take the side right there

Gonna do this, Busta bust

Come on, aiight

Come on

Verse 1:

Pause, to the wall

With the dirty dog, will rap ya'll

If you aint with the bike, crotch

Till I break your jaw

Been tryin to knock us

Tryin to kill or stop us

Jack or pop us

Busta bust, they fakin

The cake is for the takin

Why they run in their face?

I'm lettin the plan bake

Formulate, now look at the plot

We got more and more shit that's hot

Show the rock, spot, clock or knock

Nigga da hole pot, ready or not?

We coming, natchin every number

With your hoe in da Benz o, dumba like a

motherfucker

(Busta comes in)

Verse 2:

You can be my lady

You can even be my lolli pop sucka

The road long coming like the mad trucka

Lot of jealous niggas lookin funnier

than Chris Tucker

God bless, oh yes

I stay fresh, full of finesse

My congress, show progress

Stylist, hit you with tha shit to digest

And this rhyme shit we be some of the

world's finest

Your highness

Leaving corny niggas spineless

Attack it with the classic rhyme flow

timeless ( Ha Ha )

Chorus:

Not a problem my squad can't fix

We can do it in the mix

When your niggas talk trash

Your forget to bust ass

Cause you know we don't fuck around

When your niggas talk shit

Lay ya six feet under ground

Ground, gro, gro, gro, gro

When your niggas talk shit

Lay ya six feet under ground

Ground, gro, gro, gro, gro

Verse 3:

This is how we ride

Throw your hands from side to side

It's party time

And don't forget to get yours

Cause I'm a get mine (Who dat?)

The villain

Till I'm peelin a million

Ridin dirty

And bustin like thirty thirty

Till when I get in

Knowin that the shit is fucked

I'm still here to win

Chedda

If you aint a pilot than I think you

better

Hang a little

What you got?

A sweater man

My nigga my life so cut like Kain

Real raw

Ya'll don't know shit about Jamal

Or what I'm in it for

Cash cards, fly whores and tours

Fillin my plate with no mess to no

limits

The mother once in it

Has since froze frigid

Ballers and gimicks

Dick lickin

Chasin chickens

I match for the cash with the clickin

Grippin sho'

Then I'm dippin

Into whippin

High trippin

Verse 4:

Why you niggas hopping and skipping

I stick to clippin

Yo, accelerate on the gas

Move fast, blast!

Find a nigga foot in your ass

Colorful niggas let's keep the whole

contrast

Flipmode is tha squad a news flash,

bustin shit up

What the fuck? Nigga get up

Violate, niggas get their whole shit lit

up

Break fool, niggas know the rules

Rap jewels, champagne bath, no more, we

in the pool

Nigga caught a motherfuckin strain on

the brain

Ridin on the train

I'm a whip a Benz in tha rain

Oversize click, on the rise

So realize

We be dem niggas that eat up all you

funny little small fries

The franchise

Flipmode damagin all you fall guys

Yo I'm tired of niggas they full of true

lies

No time

We got the right surprise

Need a new beginning

Need to get a baptise

You need to get a baptise

Word is bond

Chorus

Just party to tha shit like this come on

Just bounce to tha muthafuckin beat come

on

Niggas don't know my brand new song come

on

Hear me out ya'll uh

Feel my shit

Come on bounce