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N.T. (ft Busta Rhymes)

[Q-Tip]

For real though who really got sent

Flown on the edge got the ledge hangin' out of the window

Bird chest niggas with you (wondrous fearaf?)

Fuck around you'll be (hemp's meat) inside of a meal sack

Puny little bucks better hit the Jake

But that doesn't mean nothing to the heart within

You cramped up you and your team I'm amped up

And you asses can't dib me bead

My shine what the fuck is on your mind?

Little weakling rappers better hit the grind

Other brothers ain't motivated they can't do it

Not only did I penetrate it I ran through it

My music comes on and we march at the dance

Inside of your mind or inside of my pants?

Musical intention that we have is vast

You sick? Drink a NyQuil well I'm dead on your ass

Oh well then here comes the gelatin

Tips on some sugars but you yap on your selling friends

Now your party is completely blown

Real name is Kamal I'm in completely zone

It's rap time for you that means nap time

Preaching from my joint what the fuck I'ma clap mine

Singing songs of 6 pence it's intense

Surprise your ass at the end like the sixth sense

Heavy hitters knocking shit out the park

You couldn't even really play tell me why did you start

Spitting sharp blades laced with bleach

You wanna play around kid I'm not a walk at the beach

A stroll in the park or your fucking playground

Put on your headphones tell me how grenades sound

Put on your walkmase and go underneath the town

Q-Tip abstract how I gets down[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]

All my bitches, dance if you know that you dam sure

Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna[Q-Tip]

Get down[Busta Rhymes]

Fuck that niggas that bust gats

Better let em in 'fore they rush that 'cause they wanna[Q-Tip]

Get down[Busta Rhymes]

Blick shit piano sick shit[Q-Tip]

Get down[Busta Rhymes]

Chill you can get off my dick and[Q-Tip]

Get down[Busta Rhymes]

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[Q-Tip]

Get down[Q-Tip]

Coming with the brand new quickly we pan to

The young black man with intentions to ban you

Seems that people need an aid today

So many fade away so many fiend to stay

I really rhyme 'cause I feel I should say things

While the fraudulent act raps just so they cop rings

Or maybe because when they was young

They was fronted on and left alone to have they own fun

Now they've all grown up to be assholes

I'm giving you the rope will you tie up the lassos

You swing dangling from peach trees

While I sip my Daiquiris in the south west breeze

Writing so exciting the pen it keeps

Dripping out gems that's converted to hems and then

People be humming it from now to they next to kin

My family is starving You know they want me to win

Me forfeit nigga please get off it

Send a check in my name to my office

Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it

Abstract coming through witness the bullshit[Busta Rhymes]

Hey yo, hey yo engineer cut the fucking beat off

Songwriters

SMITH, TREVOR / FAREED, KAMAAL IBN JONATHAN DAVIS / SPIVEY, GEORGEPublished by

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc. Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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