Tough Guy (feat. Busta Rhymes) - Xplicit Album Version

Lyrics

Aiyyo it's the immaculate conception Busta Bus himself
 And nuttin other than the godfather, spectacular X to the Zizzle
 That's what the fuck it is, 'nuff said
 YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!
 I wanna see you motherfuckers put your hands up
 Stretch bitch like you doin aerobics motherfucker
 Yeah!
 Thought you was a tough guy? (BOOM!)
 When 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 tryin to copy my style)
 Check it
 I got cars (many) switches (many) hoes and (many) bitches
 (Many) huh, 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
 HUH! Properties or blocks, we control 'em
 (Many, many) glocks know how I kill all your soldiers Freddy
 My machete (huh) will cut niggaz like I ain't really like 'em
 (Ha!) Then carve a nigga meat deep like I'm killin a bison
 HUH! Tyson, animal instinct the way I will beat you
 Got (many) shots and (plenty) spots for them bullets to eat you
 (Ha!) See through (huh) them holes them bullets'll leave in between you
 (Ha!) It seems you, got left to die slow all up inside the venue
 Yup! Yo
 Orangutangin slangin, I'm hangin 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, screamin off witcha head
 Brutal bustin, it's the X to the Z, we chart climbin
 You see my name next to that diamond, it's all timin
 Hit you in the stomach, with somethin your face and feet'll
 be touchin to have your bones start crackin and bustin
 To my women who be workin 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
 (HUHHH!) Yeah, cause my grind don't quit
 I'm a walkin franchise with them extra clips
 I keep the bread roll thick, do lines so sick
 that you can cut 'em with a razor blade, sniff the shit, c'mon
 Yeah, check it
 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 little liquor for the homey muh'fucka (WE STILL)
 'll make a nigga leak blood, 'til he need a (REFILL)
 You try to be a tough guy, and complicate what I build
 Somebody don't beat the shit out this muh'fucka (WE WILL!)
 Asthmatic, dramatic, fold you like a Kraftmatic
 Heavy metal press hittin your chest like a train wreck
 Command respect, throw it one time for your set on deck
 Niggaz you never forget
 I set up precedents, homey you never snitch, hide the evidence
 Dummies dig ditches, they dyin for dead presidents
 The big screen make 'em seem large like an elephant
 But in real life they so soft and so delicate
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:25
Key
1
Tempo
74 BPM

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