Tough Guy

(albüm: Weapons Of Mass Destruction - 2004)

[Busta Rhymes:]
Ayo, it's the immaculate conception, Busta-Bus himself
And nothing other than the godfather, spectacular X-to-the-Zizzle
That's what the fuck it is, 'nough said
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I wanna see you motherfuckers put your hands up
Stretch, bitch, like you doing aerobics, motherfucker
Yeah

Thought you was a tough guy?
Then I put one right in ya head
Now tell me what you think you is now
(A top dollar biller, a rottweiler, a killer
Slap the shit out a nigga tryna copy my style)

I got cars, many switches, many hoes and many bitches
Many bodies that's buried in holes of many ditches
Many, many homes, plenty chrome up on my whip
Plenty stop for you
Make me run up on your block and cock the semi
Ready, any nigga front, I hold it steady
I cock back, pop the ratchet and spill your spaghetti
Properties or blocks, we control 'em
Many, many Glocks, know how I kill all your soldiers, Freddy
My machete will cut niggas like I ain't really like 'em
Then carve a nigga meat deep like I'm killing a bison
Tyson, animal instinct the way I will beat you
Got many shots and plenty spots for them bullets to eat you
See-through, them holes them bullets'll leave in between you
It seems you got left to die slow all up inside the venue

Thought you was a tough guy?
Then I put one right in ya head
Now tell me what you think you is now
(A top dollar biller, a rottweiler, a killer
Slap the shit out a nigga tryna copy my style)

[Xzibit:]
Orangutanging, slanging, I'm hanging over the edge
I rock two 40 Glocks, I call 'em Barney and Fred
I stay hungry like I'm only fed water and bread
The king of the castle get at you, screaming off with ya head
Brutal Bust and Mr. X-to-the-Z, we chart climbing
You see my name next to that diamond, it's all timing
Hit you in the stomach with something
Your face and feet'll be touching
I'll have your bones start cracking and busting
To my women who be working them jeans with fat asses
Rich Itala heels, Roberto Cavali glasses
Come to my hideout, let me pimp your ride out
Hit your backside, tear your spine out and slide out
Yeah, 'cause my grind don't quit
I'm a walking franchise with them extra clips
I keep the bankroll thick, do lines so sick
That you can cut 'em with a razor blade, sniff the shit, come on

[Busta Rhymes:]
Thought you was a tough guy?
Then I put one right in ya head
Now tell me what you think you is now
(A top dollar biller, a rottweiler, a killer
Slap the shit out a nigga tryna copy my style)

I tell you, no lie
Bitch nigga, you gon' die
Kill or be killed or get bodied just because you walked by
Nigga be still 'fore the trigger go off and a shot fly
And the shit'll be ill, if the shot turn your stomach to a pot pie
Nigga, we spill a lil liquor for the homie, muhfucka
We still'll make a nigga leak blood, 'til he need a refill
You tryna be a tough guy, and complicate what I build
Somebody don't beat the shit out this muthafucka, we will

[Xzibit:]
Asthmatic, dramatic, fold you like a Kraftmatic
Heavy metal press hitting your chest like a train wreck
Command respect, throw it one time for your set on deck
Niggas you never forget
I set up precedents, homie, you never snitch, hide the evidence
Dummies dig ditches, they dying for dead presidents
The big screen make 'em seem large like an elephant
But in real life, they so soft and so delicate

[Busta Rhymes:]
Thought you was a tough guy?
Then I put one right in ya head
Now tell me what you think you is now
(A top dollar biller, a rottweiler, a killer
Slap the shit out a nigga tryna copy my style)