What Up - Busta Rhymes Yeah! yeah, busta bust down, flipmode now I know what yall feel like doin Go head and crash your whip in the fuckin wall Its cool, niggaz.. we gets busy Fo sho, spit rogue, get mo bout to kick in the door Dick sore, split whores til they shit on the floor Clique more sick from when you use to see us before Shit, kill a nigga quick, niggaz know my rapport Keep workers on the strip that be ready for war Brick I flip a little quicker if they shit in the store Rip, maybe til they drop, and they shit in they drawers Shit crazy when I pop, and Im grippin the four Thick bitches in the spot, watch em strip for the sport Spit vicious for the block, yeah we swingin a torch Stick niggaz for they shit, thank em for they support Quick nigga, better quit snitchin down at the court Check track a little slick and try to go on my forbes Cause we stackin like we rich, and we holdin the fort This time, we had to bring it, guess what we brought The hottest shit to bang from l.a. to the streets of new york All my people, get drunk, get high - whattup? Get money, get rich, get fly - whattup? Get stupid, get busy, get live - whattup? Jump all in your whip, turn the key and drive - whattup? Make a mill yeah we gon make about five - whattup? We speak the truth and we aint talkin no jive - whattup? Im speakin to the streets and everybodys widdit - whattup? Once again you know we only come to get it - whattup?
Like I went on a vacation and Im back from my trip Nuff radio rotation like Im sailin a ship Or when the team circle the block, busy trailin my clique Truck packed fulla niggaz with the strap and the whip Get the gat out of the stash, put it back on my hip Gat butt you in the face, split and fatten your lip Blood hit the floor louder than the clap when it drip I credit your name with bullets, read the back of the script My victims initials engraved on the back of the clip Chicks love the way we roll, how the movement is thick So official like my names on the back of your bitch Pay triple for the name on the back of the stitch Name like the whole city now Im changin the pitch Kick back kinda crazy when Im holdin the fifth Think you nicer than the god, shit is only a myth Grab ahold of the masses, I was born with a gift Niggaz be runnin they trap, throw em over the cliff Thinkin and drinkin the guinness, busy holdin the spliff Flippin and shittin on niggaz til we old and we stiff I dont even drive whips, throw the shit on the lift 12 hours, one worker do the whole of the shift I do the thing to make you open your mouth And give you shit to bang the midwest and the rest of the south
