[Intro: Busta Rhymes]

Yea I'm back to drive you crazy

With the hottest shit in the streets, no ifs, ands, or maybes

Everybody gather around from here to little Haiti

Cuz it's Busta (Luda) and (Young Weezy Baby)

With Flipmode and DTP, shit be gettin' ugly

Weezy, tell 'em what you rep (I represent Young Money)

Yeah I know you got me, homie (Busta, Bust I got you)

Real talk (I'm goin' in)

Get 'em, killer

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]

I'm about to blast off, call it rocket science

Daddy fat stacks, check my pocket size

And if ya wan' try it, c'mon and try it

You don't want beef, I'll put you on a diet

I'm comin' through ya house with them choppas firin'

And all adults die, leave the toddlers cryin' (Damn)

I've been a soldier, never met Private Ryan (Uh-uh)

Hey welcome to the jungle, and I'm the lion (Ahh)

I'm dippin' in my coupe, with the top behind me (Ha)

I'm not the president, but I see cops behind me

Well fuck 'em, fuck 'em, fuck 'em, and they cannot stop me

So I will be drivin' like Ricky Bobby (Errrr, ha)

It's my prerogative like Whitney's Bobby

I'm skatin' on blades like Sidney Crosby (That's hockey)

Haha, sharper than a Ginsu, shawty

You not Beyonce, but I can get you bodied

[Chorus]

Now you know what we about to do

We goin' full throttle

Niggas go and toss ya champagne

And throw a fuckin' bottle

Throw it up (you know we got em)

Throw it up (you know we got em)

Throw it up (you know we got em)

Throw it up (you know we got em)

[Verse 2: Ludacris]

I throw it up like a cap and tassel (Yeah), I got my rap diploma (Oh)

I throw it up like the gangs in Southern California

I Got them burners on ya, have you lookin' at a Russian Ruger

I'll be lookin' like a human torch

Then have you lookin' like Freddy Krueger (Woo)

So don't be sleepin' on me (Ugh), this ain't a fuckin' dream (No)

I pass the rock to these jays like I'm on they fuckin' team

But I ain't slangin' dope, I slang Luda-vision

Hip-Hop's God in these jeans, now that's true religion

You couldn't fill my shoes, You couldn't fill my jockey

My niggas fight over ice like we been playin' hockey

I hope you get the goal, I hope you get the point

I'm on a roll with this paper, I hope you get the joint

I hope you fire it up, I hope it burn slow

I welcome chicks to my nest, I let these birds know

And eagles fly alone, so I'm about to take flight

And throw it up like ya girl's dress on prom night

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes]

When I spit, niggas be askin' "Who dat" It be the god

And I know you niggas really wanna know how the hell I "Do dat"

And the way that I come through

And kill every single thing when I rhyme

Nevermind, niggas can't compete when I spit a little beat same time

(Bring the beat back) My fans will leave ya fuckin' ass leakin'

For sayin' you nicer than me, hypothetically speakin'

Cool and Dre bring the fuckin' beat back for no reason

(Rewind It)

Niggas know my rap and know me for always beastin', Ok

When they see me they stutta, niggas know where I'm from

Scoon nu nu nu ba ba be, like the speakin' in tongues

I single handedly move like a thousand niggas kick on

Trample niggas like a heard of hippo's (Nigga)

When I get hot I pop like oil, that's when they call me crisco (Bitch)

That's when I seek revenge like the Count of Monte Cristo

Crack niggas like Nabisco, swallow a fifth for 'Sisco

A gangsta cat markin territory wherever the piss go

Now that I'm pissy drunk, why the hell you wanna thug and holla

I'll change that and have you consider studyin' Kabbalah (Shit)

They nicknamed me Kamala (Hey), kinda like the Ugandan giant

Flatten niggas with my foot, who wanna try it

[Chorus]