N.T.

[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
For real though, who really got sick flow?
On the edge, not the ledge hangin' out of the window
Bird chest niggas with ya wind of this fear rap
Fuck around you'll be minced meat inside of a meal sack
Puny little punks better hit the gym
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 dim my beam
My shine what the fuck is on your mind?
Little weakling rappers better hit the grind
Other brothers ain't motivated, they can't do it
Not only did I penetrate it, I ran through it
My music comes on and we mosh at the dance
Inside of your mind or you're inside of my pants
Musical intentions that we have is vast
You sick? Drink a NyQuil, well, I'm bed on your ass
Oh well then here comes the gelatin
Tip's on some shit is what you yap on your cell to friends
Now your party is completely blown
Real name is Kamaal, I'm in "complete me" zone
It's rap time, for you, that means nap time
Reachin for my joint? What the fuck, I'mma clap mine
Singin songs of sixpence, you sit tensed
Surprised your ass at the end like The Sixth Sense
Heavy hitters knocking shit out the park
You didn't even really play, tell me why did you start
Spittin' sharp blades laced 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, tell me how grenades sound
Put on your walk face and go underneath the town
Q-Tip, Abstractm how I gets down

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes (Q-Tip)]
All my bitches, dance if you know that you damn sure
Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna
(Get down)
Fuck that niggas will bust gats
Better lit a make for their rush that cuz they wanna
(Get down)
Flip this piano sick shit
(Get down)
Chill you can get off my dick and
(Get down)
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
(Get down)

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
Comin with the brand new quickly we pan to
The young black man with intentions to ban you
Seems that people need an aid today
So many fade away, so many fiend to stay
I really rhyme cuz I feel I should say things
While the fraudulent act rap just so they cop rings
Or maybe because when they was young
They was fronted on and left alone to have their own fun
Now they're all grown up to be assholes
I'm giving you the rope, will you tie it to lassos?
You swing dangling from peach trees
While I sip my Daiquiris in the Southwest breeze
Writings so exciting the pen it keeps
Drippin out jings that's converted to hymns and them
People be hummin it from now to their next of kin
My family is starving? You know they want me to win
Me, forfeit? Nigga, please get off it
Send the check in my name to my office
Mutombo in the lane, yo, I toss it
Abstract comin through, witness the bomb shit