Q-Tip: N.T

[Q-Tip] for real though who really got sick though on the edge got the ledge hangin' out of the window bird chest niggas witcha winderous fearaf fuck around you'll be against me the size of a meal sack cutie little bucks better hit the jake but that doesn't mean nothin to the heart within you cramped up you and your team I'm amped up and you asses can't dip my B my shine what the fuck is on your mind? Little weaklink rappers better hit the grind Other brothers ain't motivated they can't do it Not only the opposite train it I ran through it My music comes on and we march at the dance Inside of your mind or inside of my pants? Use a cruel intention that we have is bad You sick? Drink a NyQuil when I'm bed on your ass Oh well then here comes the gellatiin Tips on some sugars but you yap on your sellin' friends Now your party is completely blown Real name is Kamal I'll make him peep his own It's rap time for you that means nap time Preachin from my joint what the fuck I'ma clap mine Singin songs in 6 pens with sit tensed Surpised your ass is the end like the sixth sense heavy hitters knockin shit out the park you didn't even really play tell me why did you start spittin sharp blades lakes with bleach you wanna play around kid I'm not a walk at the beach a stroll in the park or your fuckin playground put on your headphones and tell me how granades sound put on your walkmase and go underneath the town Q-Tip abstract how I gets down Chorus: [Busta Rhymes] All my bitches, dance if you know that you dam sure Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna [Q-Tip] get down [Busta Rhymes] fuck that niggas will bust gats better lit a make for their rush that cuz they wanna [Q-Tip] get down [Busta Rhymes] blick shit piano sick shit [Q-Tip] get down [Busta Rhymes] chill you can get off my dick and [Q-Tip] get down [Busta Rhymes] while I'm on the hook get on your good foot and blow up the spot for all of you niggas cuz that's how we [Q-Tip] get down [Q-Tip] comin with the brand new quickly we pant to the young black man with intentions to band you see that people need a age in things so many paid their ways so many phean to stay I really rhyme cuz I feel I should say things By the fortualte act rap just so they cop rings Or maybe because when they was young They was fronted on a life alone that have their own fun Now their all grown up to be assholes I'm giving you the rope will you tie talassels? You swing dingaling for peas trees While I sip my Dacarees in the south west breeze Writings so exciting the pen it keeps Drippin out jings that's converted to hems and them People be hummin in formality next to kin My family is starvin? You know they want me to win We forfeit nigga please get off it Second checkin my name to my office Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it Abstract comin through witness abortion