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Busta Rhymes – Oh No Lyrics

Oh No Lyrics – Busta Rhymes

Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em
I got ’em

Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em
Need I remind ’em, they must’ve forgotten
Fuck this bitch up from the top to the bottom
Kill ’em all ’til they decaying, they rotting
Whip shit I can’t pronounce, just know it’s foreign
Spaceship outside and the fiber is carbon
I’m making ’em sick again, bitch get here, vomit
Fuck
Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em
Me taking Ls while talking so uncommon
Shit hide their shit before my niggas rob ’em
You better off dead or probably playing possum
And stay on the ground ’cause there’s no better option
Then fuck up this bitch with another concoction
Clear up the block with a blare from a shotgun
Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em
Clown niggas from miles away, we still spot ’em
Man, fuck around and end up on a milk carton
[*gunshot*]
Nigga wondering who shot him
Grave located, don’t post your nigga garden
Pop niggas up, now watch my way I rock ’em
I chop a brick up now watch how they gon’ cop ’em
I mop the clique up on top of how I flop them
Get got in your gut no matter how I drop ’em
Plot against us now watch how we just stop ’em
What we s’posed to do? Nigga from the bottom
Plant the money tree and get the money when it blossom
How the fuck is they gon’ stop him
Clout thirsty niggas on the gram, we block ’em
Pull up and watch the way the bitches flockin’

Flocka! Waka Flocka!
Most you niggas really ca-ca (And)
Get the passing, meet [?] (And)
Bitch you know I keep the choppa (And)
Every single time I pop ’em (And)
Pop ’em make the ratchet pop-pop
Pop-pop-pop-pop
I make that ratchet pop-pop
[*explosion*]

Think you niggas can fuck with my clique I say “Oh no-no”
How could be better, nigga could be never heard of, no
Fuck the building up, promoters screaming out “Oh no-no”
Until they shut us down, they got every hood fiending like “Oh no”

Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em (Watch how I)
Wack ’em and I sock ’em
Outer space with it how I Mr. Spock ’em
And cop me a planet, fuck it up like Saturn
Batmobile whipping, pulling up to Gotham
[?] sipping, counting blood with Pac-Man
Gotta chill, bitches know I beg your pardon
Bitch, what’s the problem
How’d you fuck it up my nigga, I got ’em
Y’all niggas know that what we do is awesome
You better off leaving, purchase you a coffin
You gon’ thank me in the morning
You know that I keep shooting, the gun barrel scorching
Lay you to rest and spin the Wheel of Fortune
Do shit that keep all of you niggas talking
Bitch, what’s the problem
Fuck you talking ’bout my nigga, I got ’em
Fuck shit up here and all the way to Scotland
And broke him up with the [?], we gon’ pop him
And talk my shit clear, well let me speaker knock him
Motherfucker got him flockin’
I talk to the streets to be my final calling
Walk and go sleep, that be your final warning

Fl-Fl-Fl-Fl-Flocka! Wacka Flocka!
Most you niggas really ca-ca (And)
Get the passing, meet [?] (And)
Bitch you know I keep the choppa (And)
Every single time I pop ’em (And)
Pop ’em make the ratchet pop-pop
Pop-pop-pop-pop
I make that ratchet pop-pop
[*explosion*]

Think you niggas can fuck with my clique I say “Oh no-no”
How could be better, nigga could be never heard of, no
Fuck the building up, promoters screaming out “Oh no-no”
Until they shut us down, they got every hood fiending like “Oh no-no”