UHHHH!! You don't know what we doin right here!



Intro/Chorus One: repeat 2X



One two three we gon' turn it out

And make you rock to the beat and then scream and shout

We gonna hit you with the shit we got here

We gonna blow your miiiinnnd (blow your miiiinnnd)

Keep it movin like this keep it movin like that

If I die I'ma only come back

Yo I'm saying if you think that you can step to me wrong

Don't even waste your tiiiimmme (waste your tiiiimmme)



Chorus Two:



You niggaz talk shit then abandon ship

Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship

Niggaz talk shit, then they abandon ship

Niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship



Verse One: Rampage the Last Boy Scout, Busta Rhymes



I 8Off like the Assassin, now I'm blastin I'm takin over

Stick you for your blue Range Rover

I told ya, Rampage a real live soldier

Been in the game, sinc the age of thirteen

A microphone fiend, so I'm goin to see my P.O.

It's August the 1st, so I guess I'm a Leo

My P.O., look like Vanessa Del Rio

She pulled my rap sheet, just like, Neo Geo



Hahahaaa! I always roam through the forest

Just like a brontosaurus, born in the month of May

so my sign is Taurus, kick you in your face

like my fuckin name was Chuck Norris, make you sing my chorus

Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus

You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless

Acting like you wild, but I know you really harmless

While your time is coming, I make the fat shit regardless



Many niggaz wanna know when the Ramp return

Yo I'm gettin phone calls from that nigga Howard Stern

He wants to know about my Flip Mode click

The way we get down and BUST NIGGAZ SHIT

LP after LP, we make G's

I run up in your ganks den take you for your keys

I'm not lying or joking, you get broken

Dead in Flatbush, back to Roanoake and...



People always askin me, how your shit be sellin

For makin shit guaranteed to bust your fuckin melon

Police throwed me up on charges like I was a felon

There was no tellin, when I was strikin had you swellin

Cruisin in my Lands, watch the police how they be gellin

Lock you up for days and got a nigga ass smellin

Yo FUCK THAT! You best believe there ain't no time for dwellin

If you ain't makin noise you need to kill the fuckin yellin



Chorus One

Chorus Two



Verse Two: Rampage, Busta



Yo, yo, yo I run up in your set like a New York city...

I can't slip, I beat you down with my vice grip

Your lost, that means you way off course

No remorse, I'm gettin five in The Source



I be saddleback biting motherfuckers like a horse

Turn and toss, niggaz all up in my applesauce

Watch me reinforce, my shit feel good like intercourse

Ever since I was a shorty rockin Hugo Boss



Aiyyo bust it Bust (why) you just made my day

If you didn't put me on I'd be locked like O.J.

Now I'm writin rhymes hittin shorties everyday

In the full runnin drinkin ice Tanqueray

I don't eat pork I take a fish fellet

Now I'm knockin out niggaz from .. to .. touche!

Now I'm goin back around the way

I'm rippin shit, like my name was Marvin Gaye



Yo, now I'm back with more Bionic like my name was Colt Seavers

Got you niggaz open like a bunch of wide receivers

Time is on the meter, go clean your act up in the cleaners

Chickenhead, give me some of your chicken fajitas

Yo I beg your pardon, I write my rhymes way past the margins

Squeeze the Charmin, peace to one million men marchin

When you talk shit you really don't know what you startin

Now your shit is done like a fuckin empty milk carton



It's on for the nine-six, mad shows at the Ritz

Now we got you open like Fixx

Stickin to your stomach like Quaker Oat Grits

Fisherman hat with my brand new kicks

On the low, I still rock my Girbauds

See the show, I got my nickel plated fo'-fo'

All my rough niggaz open the do'

Cause Boy Scout brings the ruckus and I'm still hardco'



Yo, when I walk streets you know my blade's a little sharper

Fuck Peter Parker, I cross you like a magic marker

Everytime I hit I always hit a little harder

Blazing to the point where niggaz look a little darker

Catching suntans from my music, fans understand

Making fat shit, I always love to lend a helping hand

Organized rhyme unit like the Poison Clan

While your ride is busted, I be your luxury Sedan

Number one nigga in the chain of command

Breakin fool in school like my nigga Geechie Dan

Aiyyyyyo, I see intruders on my scan

Singin at your funeral like Bobby Bluebland



Chorus One