Busta Rhymes - Thought I Was Gonna Stop (Remix) lyrics

[Intro: Papoose] Papoose, Papoose [Verse 1: Papoose] While y'all was on IG, I was in the Mase' Drop-top, I be in that foreign like I’m Fivi' Hustled in your building, and you couldn't stop me Like the homie Jim Jones, I be in the lobby ni**a tried to hit me two times with the shotty Missed me, I dodged both shots, Kyrie Do it anywhere, having sex in the Bugatti Nobody couldn’t see us cause the windows got foggy Flames try to rob me, it's gon' be a homi' I hope the president'll pardon me, I’m sorry Used to move like Billy the Kid, don't try me Young gun, I was a YG like Yo Gotti This is the remix, I'm loading up three clips I created the wave, now all of these rappers are seasick Like Juicy J, I tell you to your face you can eat a dick We can fight on the stage like Bone Thugs-n-Harmony/Three 6 Ha! [Interlude: 2 Chainz] ColleGrove I would a put a hook right here (Yeah!) But I'm finna snap on all y'all ni**as [Verse 2: 2 Chainz] When you was on a Zoom call, I was at the pool hall Crew tall, big ol' nuts like blue balls Who y'all? When I met the plug in the U-Haul Draco like a pool stick, I don’t need a pool ball Y’all ni**as lying but that's nothing new to y'all I don’t care if I call around lunch, it's still a booty call Trapping, I was too involved, the pistol still my bodyguard Brooklyn, Hollygrove and College Park I'm a star like the ceiling the in the R&R Got a couple restaurants, we can go bar for bar We can go (We can go) we can go (Yeah) hardy har' I throw this paper tag at you from my foreign car Pimping like I'm Mally Mall (Mm) really no thought at all I got this, I got this b*tch hit from wall-to-wall I ain't been dabbin' on the molly cause of fentanyl You can ask these Cartier glasses, I done seen it all [Interlude: 2 Chainz & Remy Ma] Toni, yeah 2 Chainz (Rem') [Verse 3: Remy Ma] While y'all was getting U-E, I was still U-P On a Lil Yachty with my Migos like I’m QC With my Lil Baby in peace, spending some QT I been it, yes, the only Nas I heard is from QB Used to shoot groupies, now I shoot movies And try to stay away from the Mickey Mouses and Goofys They rap like lil' Paps, yep, they little pussies I don't care what I say out my mouth, Lil Boosie I'm a New York City girl, keep a lil' Uzi And tell ni**as, "su*k my dick", a lil' juicy I get busy, b*tch you can't do me Do I look like BBD, you hoochie groupie? Thought I was gon' stop cause all of these who*es popped Should work for Amazon the way all of 'em throw box These b*tches is all thots And everything I do, they Rolex, Piguet and Patek, they all watch [Verse 4: Busta Rhymes] Yo, you don't really want it fam, make you do the Running Man And bag your b*tch, head she give was better in the Cullinan Everything I touch, I make it hot until your color tanned Hard of hearing ni**a, see the blicka make ya understand Quick to see ya blow the money, sick about a hundred grand Still the type to wrap a hundred grand in couple rubber band 'Til you do the chillin', send that message to his other man So unfortunate that most you ni**as do not know the plan While I pour this liquor, see the weapon in my other hand Step in like a giant when you ni**as had the contraband Damn, holy and sacred like the motherland Making movies you been watching over like it’s on demand Me on fire 'til they hot and tired and I bought a fan Pffftt, a lot of water pouring out they glands No permission I be in the kitchen with the pots and pans Pap', I got 'em, let me pop and put ‘em in a jam [Verse 5: Lil Wayne] While y'all been on TikTok, I been on B.I.G., Pac Big Glock, it's Alfred Hitchco*k, get your kid rocked Silk shock a ni**a like P brother, tree lover Fell in love with a b*tch, my b*tch just told me she love her We run it, been running this sh*t, I can't feel my legs Your brother got them birds, have my ni**as come and steal his eggs I be on a million meds, I can put your doctor on Dana White diamonds on, stones look like a octagon Can't stop, fu*k you if you think not The gun pop, the gun ring, you su*k it like a Ring Pop Had to do my thing, Pap, had to let the snub blap Riding 'til the wheels fall off, no hub cap All this mud in my cup and I don't need no mud flaps I don't need no hug, dap, I don't need no rug rats So she gon' have to chug that I'm like Tom Brady, still ballin' where the Bucs at Young Money, young man, YM