Lil Wayne, Bun B, Nas, Shyne, Busta Rhymes — Outro

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Текст Lil Wayne, Bun B, Nas, Shyne, Busta Rhymes — Outro

[Produced by Willy Will]

[Verse 1: Bun B]
Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say «who that?»
Big Bun Beeda but you already knew that
Live from the state where they chop it and screw that
You hatin’ on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)
Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man
Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand
Get out my mix, man, just gon’ get you stuck
Deeper in the quicksand with no easy fix, man (damn)
No tricks, man, those is for kids
Kush in my cigar and hoes in the crib
Drank and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge
You fuckin’ with P.A. so you know what it is
I’m sittin on the fours that clack
Comin’ down candy in the golden ‘Lac
We gettin’ to the money like it’s Goldman Sachs
Said we do it for the Pimp so no holding back, let’s go!

[Verse 2: Nas]
Look who crept in, crept-crept in
Look-look who crept in, look-look who
L-l-l-look who crept in with automatic weapons
Reppin’ QB ’til the death of him
That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants
Like Kanye West and Em
Track record, goes back to the Essence
Smack adolescents who ask who the best is
I’m nasty like gas from a fat man’s intestines
I pass it, you gaspin’ for breath and you die fast
Gut ’em like a gastric bypass
But ya Nas advocates actors seem
To get typecast in the same role
Since 16 I ain’t grow a day old yet my brain grow
Cocaine white Range Rov’
Tats on my body like an art exhibit
I did real good for a project nigga
Was once a Bacardi sipper
Now it’s Chandon, fat blunts in the car with strippers
Guns in compartments hidden
I was real young, little youth, a novice nigga
Blessings, bowed down, respected
Chowed down, now my food’s digested
Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs
That’ll bust louder than the noise that I just spit
Let’s get one thing straight
That my crown ain’t for testin’, testin’
Chop heads off like King Henry VIII
Guillotine to ya neck bitch
I’m a king in this thing, don’t be dumb
Been in this shit since ’91
Niggas can’t fuck with the style I use
Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum
Calm now, was a wylin’ dude
Studied Taoism and made power moves
Watched Wild Planet, seen lions devour food
You can say that’s how I move
A monster nigga, and I don’t really like doing songs with niggas
There go my nigga Wayne
Let them niggas hate, or like my nigga Drake say
«We ain’t got time to respond to niggas»

[Verse 3: Shyne]
I’m a villain, I’m a villain, all that happens in the street
Poverty and desperation made me everything I be
I’m a shotta when I pop up with them poppers, burn ya block up
Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin’ over Gotham
Word to Poppa, Blood, Bl-Blood gang, five
It’s that Blood gang five but green is the bottom line
I run this town, I ain’t gon’ lie, they run they mouth, they ain’t gon’ fire
They actin’ like they ain’t gon’ die, until I let them ‘llamas fly
Flatbush to Bed Do-or-Die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi
Poverty and heroine, it’s no place for a juvenile
Put greed in our heart, it’s the green that we want
Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!

[Verse 4: Busta Rhymes]
They say I’m underrated, but un-compete-with-able
Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable
Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!
And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!
They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end
That’s when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth
Got ’em sayin’ «There he goes again!»
See now they nominated a nigga to come
And flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run
And they be knowin’ that I be blackin’ on everything
And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun
I gotta make it what they want and wake ‘em when I come
And shake ’em and bake ’em and take ’em to another place
Ain’t no fakin’, ain’t no kind of mistakin’ how I be breakin’ up
Everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation when I’m done (damn!)
You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich
And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!
Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick
What the fuck you niggas still hangin’ around here for, you apostrophe bitch?
Okay, now enough of that, see now I’m out the door
Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole ‘nother classic with «Tha Carter IV»