Bust Down - p**y Ass Kid and Hoe Ass Play (Payback is a Mutha f**er) lyrics

* credited to Luke, as it appeared on his album of the aforementioned title Intro: Luke Yo, it's a f**ed-up thing! I gotta bring Kid N' Play on this motherf**in' Album here, two p**y punk-a** n***as - yo, check this out, what I'mma do Is I'mma go get last year's rookie of the year, JT Money of Poison Clan This year's rookie of the year, Bustdown - yo, Bustdown, kick some of That West Bank sh** on these f** n***as!! Verse 1: Bustdown Well, I'm first up as a rhyme conveyor Luke Records in the house for the payback, player Kid N' Play can s** a dick Get me a mic and a 40 and let a real n***a wreck sh** To me you're walking on a tightrope Instead of tryin' to be real, you're steady sweatin' them white folks Keep runnin' your big mouth But if you come to my hood, you'll get your a**hole ripped out Then I'mma play you to the back seat Cause I'm runnin' more game than a track meet athlete As if you didn't know, huh You're dealing with a West Bank dicksman, ho But anyway, I got a rhyme to deliver Get your draws out your a**, quit frontin', my n***a Cause if you don't, well you'll keep gettin dissed on And if I see you at a show and you're slippin', you're gettin' pissed on Chorus (4x): [What about Kid N' Play?] [Wick-wick-wack!] Verse 2: JT Money Now for starters, with kids I don't play Cause y'all some f**-a**, punk-a**, coochie n***as anyway JT I the house, n***as, check it Tryin' to diss my n***a Luke to sell your wack record Let me talk about the Kid I remember some ol' coochie-n***a sh** you did When we was up in New York You was followin' Luke, talkin' 'bout "We gotta talk" On that man's dick Got your a** wide open and you're talkin' that bullsh** Both movies, I boo 'em Cause you had hoes but you wasn't stickin' pipe to 'em Thought they was fantastic But through the whole f**in' movie, Kid was gettin' his a** kicked And 'bout that other n***a Play He needs to get dissed cause he's a punk n***a anyway Be 'round here kissin' hoes, while I'm dissin' hoes And stabbin 'em with fishin' poles You need to try to lay pipe in 'em Oh, I forgot - punks don't like women Got the nerve to try and diss somebody At Jack the Rapper, you was hangin' 'round Luke's party Now you're outta gas With two motherf**in' punk-haters on yo' a** JT and Bustdown Now let's see you ho n***as get tough now Get the rubbers out your a**, dick-s**ers ...and f** them p**y motherf**ers Chorus Verse 3: Bustdown Now let me put my boy Kid in his place With them wick-wack rhymes soundin' like Rob Base Cause if I have to come tag that a** I'mma max, wax, tax and drag that a** I get sharp like a ice pick I'm on a hype tip, hold the mic tight as a vice grip You couldn't deal with the concept I'm collected and calm, but on the mike I'm a bomb threat So motherf**ers get real I got a heart like gold and a dick like steel You wanna diss, punk? Please You got a flat top thicker than commodity cheese Luke left it up to me and JT To take it from the bottom to the T-O-P I saw your second "House Party," it figures: Two house parties for two house-a** n***as Outro: Luke Two house motherf**in' n***as - do y'all n***as know what a house n***a is? A house n***a is a n***a who works in the house Who cleans the master's a**, who cleans behind the master, who wash the master's a** Y'all house n***as. I'mma field n***as, we field n***as here in Miami That's why y'all n***as can't understand us, y'all f**-n***as talkin' too much sh** Y'all n***as better watch what you sayin' cause y'all f** n***as, y'all don't know Y'all get f**ed up here. Yo, check this out Miami is closed to y'all n***as. Y'all barred. Y'all can't come here no more, f**-n***as Y'all can't sell no more records here And if all real n***as in the world is real like us, y'all don't buy them f**-n***as' sh** no more Cause they ain't sh**, p**y punk, f** n***as