Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin

Текст песни Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin


I be the worst like nick

To all them mc thugs

Like them 4 little kids

And the teacher gettin plugged

I dont give a fuck style

Tell me come jiggy

I rock kix and swishees

Coppin moet wit 2 counterfeit 50s


Dirty girl rhyme spit mucous

Speech uncoothe

And raise the roof like lukas

12 years done rocked through all phases

Watch your peeps scream the bitch was the blazest

(spliff starr)

Niggas run they mouth about my click

Not smart

I bust your bloodclot

Then drop you upon the sidewalk


Hit ya ass wit a vicious blow

You know my style

Spliff the foul

Through your stereo

Spliff starr ignorant immigrant

Im gettin it

Money, fast car, fine broads, what

Im hittin it (thats right)

Raw shit Im spittin it

At you and yours

Make you feel the pain nigga

Like the dick to your balls

Thug blood fluid

Pumpin in the face of my music

Drop the street shit

Watch the whole world rock to it

Nigga squad!!!

(baby sham)

Squad had em opin

Had his bitch scopin

Sittin by the bar

Sippin heinkens totein

Pinky rings glowin

Triple beams to the club

My man is half thug

Giving me pound and holdin grudge

Feelin my shit

So I can put a lock on your clik

Your style is past tense

Hold on, hold on

You just started rappin

Ever since you heard the shit

We fuckin wit its platinum

Slow your growth

Stop the show

Go at you both

Hit you with more bars than soap

Sham is the name

Feelin invain

Fiendin for dope


Yeah, you know we got cha opin!!!


Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Yo, stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin kid

Stop frontin, you know we got cha opin kid


Niggas made me mad

And now I wanna clap shit (uh)

I reign supreme in this muthafuckin rap shit

I lost my mind

I cant get it back

The way that Im spittin, yo

I spit ya fuckin wig back

Dont front, my squad got you opin

Hit you with a buck fifty

Heres a token

Ramp is smokin

Im no joke and

I leave your face broken

This is survival of the fittest

Get wit us

All you critics and bullshitters

My nine goes bang

Im talkin street slang

Im reppin flipmode

Plus Im doing my thang

On the side

We wont let it ride

Nigga dont hide

(lord have mercy)

Landlord innovator

Switch lanes no indicator

The general, cash generator

Master and saviour

Nigga stay massive in nature

When tooth shatter ya die bone

In the savage cyclone of cops, sirens, and cases

Who read the Bible for basics?

When Im crooked eye with rivals

Horizontal in gods places

Suspicious of all

Now who dat? ? ?

Quick on the draw

Lick a paw

For loved ones blood runs cold in the winter wars

Check the criminal thoughts

Villains warp with the invisible force

Know the ledge

Stay focused like photo lens

And spread wings like cobra heads

Till Im old and dead


Hot shit, toxic

You know we blocks shit

Traffic in the streets system

All in your jeep knocks shit

Julio for no reason back the fifth

And he cocks it

Rock shit, we make niggas mad

And wanna pop shit

Massive and attractive

Niggas is captive

Chemotherapy needed

Lyrics radioactive

When I hit hard

It get my dick hard

In my backyard

Analyze the stars

On how to defeat all odds

In a new zone

Im on a new phone

Make most of the wackest rapper niggas

Wanna find a new home

Like rasco jeans

My style flip two-tone

Pass my blue chrome

Heres one of the best of busta rhymes own

My debut made you

Wonder who

Shit blazes so much

You wish you could play out

So you could blaze, too

Before I shout you

Or give reason to doubt you

I study shit and re-analyze everything about you

My rhymes on the preserve

Niggas know we deserve

Everything up in your stash and in the reserve

Fuck that!!!

Hook up all my lyrics on the echos and the re-verbs

Never fuck with these herbs

My squad remains superb


(heh) walkin thru the streets

Undercovers follow us, stress

Muthafuckas on the regular to bust

Trust us

We dont get enough

Nigga wha-what?

Dirty baggy jeans

Black napsack with something for ya gut

Wooly-type skully

Fully strapped, black bulletproof, and match


Whip up a batch

Of bullets to blow up the map


Collapse, perhaps doing this in the raps

In the long time, ya trapped

Buck make em react

God verse attack

Let em know the moon is still black

And its a fact...

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, kid

Yo stop frontin, ya know we got cha opin

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, yo

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, kid

Dont front, you know we got cha opin, kid

Yo stop frontin, you know we got cha opin

Huh, word life

Mad niggas opin

Yeah, word life

Flipmode, muthafuckin buckshot

Mad niggas scopin

Buck to ya brain!!!!!

Другие песни исполнителя

01ViolatorsBusta Rhymes
02Watcha Come Around HereBusta Rhymes
03We Got Cha Opin (Part 2)Busta Rhymes
04What It is at NowBusta Rhymes
05What My Niggas WantBusta Rhymes
06Where You Think You GoinBusta Rhymes

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Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin?

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