Busta Rhymes - Fall Back lyrics

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks] n***a You know it's a pimpin affair when the car enters While you give your hoes mostly ice like bartenders We shop heavy; a bunch of hard spenders I'm a giant In rap it's difficult for small forwards to guard centers Don't let me hit you with the cali bro I'm raining with the record of a street legend And you ain't up my alimo My n***a buggin' off that tan gra** and hash It'll cut a n***a's sh** quicker than Grand Master Flash Your sh** ain't gonna never pop like 10 gold chains That's why your b**h blowin' on me like Nintendo games I ain't surprised most these hoes been the same since school Doing more bending over than a game of pool Get your own bread Don't sweat it I got some Now guns are like tattoo's n***a Even Bow Wow's got one You f**in' with a champion If I can't do it, it can't be done Why you think we're number 1? [Hook: Busta Rhymes] A lot of this n***as be runnin' with their crew frontin' Perfectly honest You n***as ain't gonna do nothin' Chill yall... And my n***a you can hold that If you don't want to feel the ratchet n***a fall back [Verse 2: Fabolous] Right now, they're trying to hit me with a mob of feds... They say I got that coke responsible For that sh** Whitney and Bobby said Plus I got a chick with me that can slob a head With a looser neck Than the dolls with the bobble heads She do her job in bed... And slide down polls Quick enough to change in the Batman and Robin's threads The word has probably spread If you hustle and don't want to end up in a lobby dead Go and get a job instead Cause if I slid through your area... It'll probably be with them crazy little kids from Liberia Who don't think of bids when they airin' ya? Cause they so hungry, for a peeking of a fridge they will bury ya You think you hot cause your chain hangs from neck to navel When you're just another writer for your record label Look how empty your pockets are I can tell you never had 100 Grand Unless it was a chocolate bar I keep a full clip of shells that explode Cause the canaries on my wrist look like the yellow brick road And now they're bringing me models from Europe And jars of hydro just as sticky as a bottle of syrup I'm on the move like I ride a van And I can walk through any gang territory With the same suit as spiderman I'm a winner with my first two And I'm stunting until my d**h So I want spinners on my Hurse too [Hook] A lot of this n***as be runnin' with their crew frontin' Perfectly honest You n***as ain't gonna do nothin' Chill yall... And my n***a you can hold that If you don't want to feel the ratchet n***a fall back [Verse 3: Busta Rhymes] See now we own buildings Totin' the Eiffel Towers And if you violate I'll put a hole in your cauliflower Stacks of Serena Williams paper Pushing a mean coup I'll vegetable you n***as Like a broccoli bean soup Von ducth flossin a** n***as, believe me dude We jiggalo's dummy With Emillio, that's the fast money Look and see the zone that we in Sipping yak from the 1800's Specially brewed from the barrels of Napoleon You never knew the daughter split n***as this bad Left on collada me diets and wrapped up in a sh** bag Rock white fitted's White T's, 2-X Coppin whips from overseas Can't even drive the sh** up in the U.S Look cause we ain't hit you n***a thinking he blessed Thanking the Lord like he was lucky I'm sorry little n***a, you next It's like robbing a n***a b**h You better run in for before I put this f*ggot to sleep Countin' sheep by the hundreds But now, you and your little friend dead You n***a's think something's sweet I'll sour your sh** Like a box of little Lemon Heads About 80 n***as faces will leave you stitches And have you looking worse Than baby's born from retarded b**hes Then I take the whole sh** Even your small chain And have the streets talking about me Like sports announcers for ball games A lot of n***as wonder why my sh** stay stickin' Cause I be talking greasy Like I was just eating Church's Chicken [Hook] A lot of this n***as be runnin' with their crew frontin' Perfectly honest You n***as ain't gonna do nothin' Chill yall... And my n***a you can hold that If you don't want to feel the ratchet n***a fall back