Address Me as Mr.

Ayo Kayslay, Papoose (huh)

I feel final to cook some shit in the kitchen with ya'll niggas

Let's go

Busa Bus and Papoose will come and really hurt this

And fuck you niggas up, see none of you niggas serve a purpose

I hook on niggas like Kareem and jail em like Julius Erving

See these niggas powerless like how I'm re-emerging

So deserving of the title, crown, or whatever you call it

And though you niggas was havin fun, you see I come to spoil it

Treatin niggas like the shit they are and flush 'em down the toilet

Bitch see you can't avoid it, see I'm advising you to forfeit

Gotta come up off it, homie what you doin ain't that important

See we don't need what you got plus the street don't want it

Yo Pap don't give these niggas death but slap 'em across they face

With some more venomous rap, despite the strap is upon my waist

When we in the place, I know you know how we do this nigga

And if you think you newer muthafucka, I'm the newest nigga

With the newest money, with the newest album, the newest label

The newest cars, cribs, rope, chains, used to call 'em cables

New commercial landscaping got me the newest stable of bitches

They're thoroughbreds, I'm meticulous and very anal

About how I'mma strike and attack you niggas 'cause I'm able

And give it to you niggas black and white like I'm interracial

And continue to keep it lyrical just to make 'em hate you

Sometimes niggas make me cynical 'til I come and stick you

Stick a pitch fork in 'em, watch while I come and take 'em up

To another level, if you sleep, we come to wake 'em up

See we might give you a blister when we give you the heat

Better address me as Mr. you see me in the street

Mr. Papoose, Mr. Busa Bus, this is grown man shit

We spank niggas like we bored with it

The hood they always talk with it (you hear 'em talkin about us?)

'Cause we the top rank, flawless in our weight class

You niggas don't really want problems, see every time we come with it

Shit is obvious, you muthafuckas straight ass

Papoose, you can call me Mr. Clientele

My mixtapes make more sales than Nextel

I ain't hard to find, they know where I dwell, hell

Never been a chubby nigga, I'm skinny like twelve 12s

You had that cocaine so long it smells stale

I make hella sales, my cane gold like LL

Rip the Smith & Wesson with quick aggression

And get the reppin, rip the nigga's neck in

Bang his head in and cave his chest in less than sixty seconds

Spit the weapon through his intestines

Hit the exit, can't get arrested, my record is pig infested

Got sick obsessions for walking in niggas sessions

I make endless efforts to disrespect 'em with different gestures

My wisdom threatens these wicked peasants, what's his intentions

He said he was laying in the cut, but the shit's infected

I got this perfected, I am the shepherd, so spin the record

I'm representin' for this profession I resurrected

I'm giving blessings within the lessons

This is the essence of my lyrics, brethren. Busta Rhymes is a living legend

I don't know what you actin' like you heartless for

When you know you a target like the department store

'Cause Justo gave me the crown, and ya'll knew it

My song's ruthless, your bars truthless, it's all foolish

Fill you with embalming fluid, this is ex-con music

I'm like the Van Wyck, I'll show you how a con do it

See we might give you a blister when we give you the heat

Better address me as Mr. you see me in the street

Mr. Papoose, Mr. Busa Bus, this is grown man shit

We spank niggas like we bored with it

The hood they always talk with it (you hear 'em talkin about us?)

'Cause we the top rank, flawless in our weight class

You niggas don't really want problems, see every time we come with it

Shit is obvious, you muthafuckas straight ass

Hol' up, Hol' up, Hol' up

You know we gotta do a remix, right?

Raekwon the chef, Let's go

Blood on the Chef's hatchet, I'm here for the action

Kill a hundred niggas with aspirins and piss in they caskets

45s rip through your glasses, all mines, Mr. Gymnastics

Gimme more time, or visit the blasters

'Cause I'm starving, hungry but classy, I'm dead up your lassie

'Cause it's nothing, press a few buttons, these cities diasasters

And yo, anthrax 'em and axe 'em with cyanide acid

Choke em out, left in the cold, escape through Lake Placid

Stop fronting, know you a pastor, you know I'm a master

I'm like six sixes in traffic, you niggas is taxis

Hardbodies come through jurassics

It's all about Mossberg, Rugers, loadin' 'em ratchets and blow 'em like napkins

Cus I'm elevated at the top of my flowest power

The M.O. stay young, fly, and rich as the raw child

With transaction, gram action, niggas on the stove maxin'

Throw a thousand birds off the road, while my soldiers catch it

Playin all the lobbies, the 'gattis, the red Maseratis

My colleagues will blow something, show you Karate

We know the code, Pyrex and parties, the live section

Keep him on his toes, take off them chromes and pass them to mamis

Cus federados watchin us Ghandis it's everybody's laundry they huntin' for

We could get more if we fuckin' prolly

We hang niggas, bang pistols, take a piece of your finger

The same whistle, you better respect it 'cause my name sizzle