[Q-Tip]
   for real though who really got sick though
   on the edge got the ledge hangin' out of the window
   bird chest niggas witcha winderous fearaf
   fuck around you'll be against me the size of a meal sack
   cutie little bucks better hit the jake
   but that doesn't mean nothin to the heart within
   you cramped up you and your team I'm amped up
   and you asses can't dip my B
   my shine what the fuck is on your mind?
   Little weaklink rappers better hit the grind
   Other brothers ain't motivated they can't do it
   Not only the opposite train it I ran through it
   My music comes on and we march at the dance
   Inside of your mind or inside of my pants?
   Use a cruel intention that we have is bad
   You sick? Drink a NyQuil when I'm bed on your ass
   Oh well then here comes the gellatiin
   Tips on some sugars but you yap on your sellin' friends
   Now your party is completely blown
   Real name is Kamal I'll make him peep his own
   It's rap time for you that means nap time
   Preachin from my joint what the fuck I'ma clap mine
   Singin songs in 6 pens with sit tensed
   Surpised your ass is the end like the sixth sense
   heavy hitters knockin shit out the park
   you didn't even really play tell me why did you start
   spittin sharp blades lakes with bleach
   you wanna play around kid I'm not a walk at the beach
   a stroll in the park or your fuckin playground
   put on your headphones and tell me how granades 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 will bust gats
   better lit a make for their rush that cuz 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 cuz that's how we
   [Q-Tip]
   get down
  
   [Q-Tip]
   comin with the brand new quickly we pant to
   the young black man with intentions to band you
   see that people need a age in things
   so many paid their ways so many phean to stay
   I really rhyme cuz I feel I should say things
   By the fortualte act rap just so they cop rings
   Or maybe because when they was young
   They was fronted on a life alone that have their own fun
   Now their all grown up to be assholes
   I'm giving you the rope will you tie talassels?
   You swing dingaling for peas trees
   While I sip my Dacarees in the south west breeze
   Writings so exciting the pen it keeps
   Drippin out jings that's converted to hems and them
   People be hummin in formality next to kin
   My family is starvin? You know they want me to win
   We forfeit nigga please get off it
   Second checkin my name to my office
   Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it
   Abstract comin through witness abortion