Busta Rhymes - We Got Cha Opin lyrics

I be the worst like nick To all them m.c. thugs Like them four little kids And the teacher gettin' plugged I don't give a f** style Tell me come jiggy I rock kix and swishees Coppin' moet wit' two counterfeit fifties What? Dirty girl rhyme spit mucous Speech uncoothe And raise the roof like lukas 12 years done rocked through all phases Watch your peeps scream the b**h was the blazest n***as run they mouth about my click Not smart I bust your bloodclot Then drop you upon the sidewalk (chi-chi-chi-blow!) Hit ya a** wit a vicious blow You know my style Spliff the foul Through your stereo Spliff starr ignorant immigrant I'm gettin' it Money, fast car, fine broads, what I'm hittin' it (that's right) Raw sh** I'm spittin' it At you and yours Make you feel the pain n***a Like the dick to your balls Thug blood fluid Pumpin' in the face of my music Drop the street sh** Watch the whole world rock to it n***a squad! Squad had em opin' Had his b**h scopin' Sittin' by the bar Sippin' heinken's totin' Pinky rings glowin Triple beams to the club My man is half thug Giving me pound and holdin' grudge Feelin' my sh** So I can put a lock on your clik Your style is past tense Hold on, hold on You just started rappin' Ever since you heard the sh** We f**in' wit it's platinum Slow your growth Stop the show Go at you both Hit you with more bars than soap Sham is the name Feelin' invain' Fiendin' for dope (buckshot) Yeah, you know we got cha opin! Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Yo, stop frontin', you know we got cha opin kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin kid Stop frontin', you know we got cha opin kid n***as made me mad And now I wanna clap sh** (uh) I reign supreme in this motherf**in' rap sh** I lost my mind I can't get it back The way that I'm spittin', yo I spit ya f**in' wig back Don't front, my squad got you opin Hit you with a buck fifty Here's a token Ramp is smokin' I'm no joke and I leave your face broken This is survival of the fittest Get wit us All you critics and bullsh**ters My nine goes bang I'm talkin' street slang I'm reppin' flipmode Plus I'm doing my thang On the side We won't let it ride n***a don't hide Landlord innovator Switch lanes no indicator The general, cash generator Master and savior n***a stay ma**ive in nature When tooth shatter ya die bone In the savage cyclone of cops, sirens, and cases Who read the bible for basics? When I'm crooked eye with rivals Horizontal in god's places Suspicious of all Now who dat? Quick on the draw Lick a paw For loved ones blood runs cold in the winter wars Check the criminal thoughts Villains warp with the invisible force Know the ledge Stay focused like photo lens And spread wings like cobra heads Till I'm old and dead Hot sh**, toxic You know we blocks sh** Traffic in the streets system All in your jeep knocks sh** Julio for no reason back the fifth And he co*ks it Rock sh**, we make n***as mad And wanna pop sh** Ma**ive and attractive n***as is captive Chemotherapy needed Lyrics radioactive When I hit hard It get my dick hard In my backyard an*lyze the stars On how to defeat all odds In a new zone I'm on a new phone Make most of the wackest rapper n***as Wanna find a new home Like rasco jeans My style flip two-tone Pa** my blue chrome Here's one of the best of busta rhymes own My debut made you Wonder who sh** blazes so much You wish you could play out So you could blaze, too Before I shout you Or give reason to doubt you I study sh** and re-an*lyze everything about you My rhymes on the preserve n***as know we deserve Everything up in your stash and in the reserve f** that! Hook up all my lyrics on the echos and the re-verbs Never f** with these herbs My squad remains superb (heh) walkin' through the streets Undercovers follow us, stress Muthaf**as on the regular to bust Trust us We don't get enough n***a wha-what? Dirty baggy jeans Black napsack with something for ya gut Wooly-type skully Fully strapped, black bulletproof, and match Quick, Whip up a batch Of bullets to blow up the map sh** Collapse, perhaps doing this in the raps In the long time, ya trapped Buck make em react God verse attack Let em know the moon is still black And it's a fact Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Yo stop frontin', ya know we got cha opin Don't front, you know we got cha opin, yo Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Don't front, you know we got cha opin, kid Yo stop frontin', you know we got cha opin Huh, word life Mad n***as opin Yeah, word life Flipmode, motherf**in' buckshot Mad n***as scopin' Buck to ya brain!