Lyrics:
place
Stay humble stay focused and show that I got grace
You better not point the burner to my face
Better load up the burner and then turn it to myspace
Money on my mind, Busta Rhymes (uh)
Shot out Busta, yeah yes my diamonds custard
(custard)
I'm from the Nawf, not enough, sauce 'em
Line up 'em up, we
Rhymes in the place (That's right)
Ohhhh! (It's me again boy)
Yo check me out, hey - YO! (And I'm back!)
To my mannnnnnn, by the name of Young Zee
of the homies jus got dusted
Time to do some dirt, uhh, I never trusted
them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funky, it's called
Promenade motherfucker, vamonos
It's me and I'm sick of the pro-gnosis
Got more bars than Barney Fife
And I'll put you behind them like howdy Opie
I can
for real man)
It's goin down baby, uhh
Uhh! busta rhymes
What?! Uhh, dmx nigga
Uhh, uhh, uhh, uhh, uhh
I see ghosts clearly; even though, most
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on)
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's
Everyone I know should like Ska
Even rappers like Busta Rhymes (Whooooooo Haaaaaaa)
Yeah, I feel what I write is good
But at the same time I feel
my palm
I'ma fuck you up, like the United States got by Vietnam
I go...
Yo, everytime I MC I'm coming off
Yes it's coming back to me
if it's on (on)
Each nigga handle your own, bring it on strong
If you got bills to pay, nigga, go all out
Bustas playin' with your papes, better go
if it's on (on)
Each nigga handle your own, bring it on strong
If you got bills to pay, nigga, go all out
Bustas playin' with your papes, better go
dead, busta
Bein'-a half-way out my nappy head
But I don't care - I just grab my clip, slap and spray
Anywhere - it don't matter where a nigga stay
Promenade motherfucker, vamonos
It's me and I'm sick of the pro-gnosis
Got more bars than Barney Fife
And I'll put you behind them like howdy Opie
I can
Flipmode bitch! Streetsweepers
Bitch! Kayslay! Greg Street! Busta Rhymes!
Streets fuck with me! Come on!
See it's unaminous that I'm
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's the 411, hun?)
I know you got it going on
(Hey yo, I got it going on)
Ayo yo, what's the 411, hun?
(What's
's, the nigga that be gettin' rappers heated
I'm j-ro, and my style is darker than a mole
My rhyme is so hot you got to stop drop and roll
All the liks
be known I'm troublesome
(Troublesome nigga)
(Outlawz)
Put it down to the fullest
Spittin' rhymes and bullet
All you niggas die
Troublesome
And it worked, and now I'ma fit up in my place
Stay humble, stay focused, and show that I got grace
You better not point the burner to my face
Better load
calibil breeze
You want to get involved
Better grip on tight
Take the next flight
We got it locked on the next bike
[Rampage]
Check it out
I got
to skywalk
Moderating how we establish the whole conglomerate
The way we honor it, you'll never conquer it
See how we wreck, has a global effect, on even
state time
Take it to the next phase you
Had your time to talk shit
Now bitches bustas getting checkmated
These days mothafuckas talk shit
And turn snitch
Song Title: Reality Check
Written By: Moose
Produced By: DOPEBOYZ
Verse One: Can I Busta rhyme like Busta, can I get this shit poppen, and spinning
on
The Westside nigga
We ballers for real
[Kurupt]
For real I got it bought you the blue steel
Cowards hit the panic button
Thinkin' that it was what it
it
Pull the years in rap person got in the game
All the more I'm dullin
Bitch you know I'm bulking
Lay us all late
Slip my feeling like solider
.JPG/236px-Out4Fame-Festival_2015_-_Busta_Rhymes_-_2_(cropped).JPG "Busta Rhymes")
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