Straight Spittin

[Intro: Rampage]
Yeah, huh
Uh

[Verse 1: Rampage]
I'll bust all you cats in the game for malpractice
I'm in Jersey (Uh), where I'm playin', no taxes
I'll stick your girl, Agnus (Uh), Flipmode bring the madness (Madness)
Platinum status (Uh), Rampage I'm the baddest (Baddest)
Check the credit (Uh), yo, you might as well dead it
I said it (What?), fuck the edit, it's uncut
Nigga what? (What?) It's crunch time for me to shine (Shine)
I'ma show you easily for me to take mines
Pass my nickel (Uh) plated nine (Nine), call me Einstein (-Stein)
I'm buckin' shot (Uh) two times and stick you for your rhymes (Rhymes)
Put you in a pine box, yo, and your whole family's on detox
Hustlin' cracks (Uh) and Reeboks (Uh)
Holy socks (Yeah), cut you with my ox (Ox)
Rampage got the city locked
And yo' function (Uh), to the Flat Bush junction
Causing rambunction (Uh), watch me do you somethin' (Uhh)

[Verse 2: Baby Sham]
Baby Sham on some new shit, new and exclusive
5'3", caramel, tight grip on a four fifth
Leave 'em all stiff, blow smoke from this foul drift
Nigga with the 6 story, throw 'em off the cliff
As I speak the shit to put my name on the list (What? What?)
The small thug with a slug put a mark on his wrist
A tattoo of pyramids, puttin' hollows in clips
Peeped your gat, jammed tight, Ross you lookin' to riff (Uh, uh!)
QB's type shit, cause we runnin' your clique
See me in the drop, with your six, sayin' she snitched
But never that, cuz-o, high beams through the window (Uh)
My lookouts move slow, they heard you never blast those
Got a safe in your crib, Sham, you know the code
Search, spoke out, 3, 2, 1, that's zero
Took the c-notes and Flipmode left on the quietest note
Swallowed these then clear your throat, bitch ass (Woo!), you should have spoke

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes & Baby Sham]
(Gimme a F!) Fuck the bullshit (Uh), fire my gun
Fly a nigga head, fuck it for fun, fuck where you from
(Gimme a L!) Layin' on beaches, killin' all leeches
Love to break a liar face, pick up the pieces, yo
(Gimme the I!) Intelligence eliminates all irrelevance
Icon of immaculate rhyme common sense
(Gimme a P!) Powerful professional poppin' my pistol (Hah)
Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pit bulls
(Gimme a M!) Master of all missions (Hah), maker of decisions
Head on collisions, massacre the meat rack, ask the women
(Gimme the O!) Got niggas open, open heart surgery
Rhyme so official, overthrow governments, shit is nursery
(Gimme a D!) Diggin' my dick all inside your chick
Dominate the heavyweight division rhymin' district
(Gimme a E!) Everlastin' slang, eternal ebonics
Lyrical e-mail, stabilise livin' in all my economics
(Squad!) Group of men, women, unified force, squadron (Hah)
Movin' like one in unison, I beg your pardon (Huuuuh!)

[Verse 4: Rah Digga & Spliff Star]
What they call me, a hundred on a Harley (Yeah)
Out of nowhere and keep reserving like Brawley (What?)
Marley! I'm the bitch with the histo' (Yeah...)
Woody Woodpecker or L.L. at the Bristol
Official stand, hold it down in Trent (Yeah...)
Then link up at the tunnel with the rest of my camp (I got)
Paper like Meade, I'm in the mix like Speed
And be screamin' on the mic 'til my tonsils bleed (Yeah)
Yeah, that's the way (Uh!) it is like when a kid get christened (Yeah)
Like comin' to the bricks to find your whip missin'
Rocking uptown, on down to west Howston
Houston (Fuck it!), peace to my bitches that's boostin'
After juicin', I'm a straight black ball (Damn!) a rapper (Uh)
Tap a nigga's nerves like them hackers (Uh-huh)
Be going on the modem (Yeah), I get the call from the dispatcher (Uh-huh)
Then show them (Yo!) (Yeah) motherf'ers what I'm (Yo!) after

[Verse 5: Spliff Star & Busta Rhymes]
Yo, I back slap a whack MC for tryin' to be
Something he not, pull his card, blow up his spot
Nigga talkin' 'bout murder but ain't committin' none (Uh-huh)
Niggas talkin' 'bout gats but ain't bustin' one (Uh-huh)
Yo, I see you in the club portraying like you a thug (Uh-huh)
Yeah, your man got a gat, but he ain't bustin' there slug
You's a local black spokesman, I split your front open (Aight)
Vicious knife wound, fucked up like Ron Goldman
Spliff, I split, fully equipped for any bullshit
Grew up with the bad and ugly, quick to pull shit
Ignorant, vulgar, on your tape recorder (A-what?)
Idol to your son and probably lover to your daughter
Fatman son (Yes), milted grandson (Uh-huh)
[?] nephew, Franky cousin
(Uh-huh) One more time (Uh-huh) Spliff (Ah-hah), come on, son
Bust my gun (Uh-huh), like Colombians (Yeah)
Make niggas collapse like fucked up lungs

[Verse 6: Lord Have Mercy]
Better obey the law of the land (Ahh)
Or lay still like soldiers of fortune in Nam
Closed coffin with flags folded in half
Triangular shape, blow out the candles with grace
For fabulous tastes, some'll, battle for space
Pay the ultimate price, poltergeist
Put the holy ghost in your life, bring you closer to Christ
Focus your dice, when the vulture's in flight
Resculpture the mic, then smash heads like the opium bite
Prophet in vein (Hah!), Metropolis claim body and soul
ID's controlled in the optical frame
Never stoppin' the game, remove your squad with steady plans
I body slam punks like Superstar Billy Gramm

[Outro: Busta Rhymes]
Straight spittin', hot street shit, lyrically
We spittin', niggas don't know how we gettin' on down
Spittin', straight spittin'
Word is bond, we straight spittin'
Flipmode Squad, niggas is rhymin' and spittin'
Fuck shit up everywhere, we straight spittin'
Lyrical ass whippin', nigga, straight spittin'
We straight spittin'
We straight spittin'