This is dedicated to all those who don't see it coming...
Chorus: Busta Rhymes
You can live true baby, you can live trife Whatever way you chose you got to leave your life Aiyyo you're running out of time, and you bout to cross The finish line, the finish line
(repeat Chorus)
Verse One: Busta Rhymes
And, yo! I can't afford to waste a second Steppin with my eyes on niggaz checkin on my weapons Every millisecond, motherfuckers say they true to this But when they grab the microphone they shit sound like stupidness *beatboxing* Hah, mad to pull another vicious scandal I know that you can't handle when I flip from other angles now Feel my hot wax, burning from my melting candles You can't take the heat, so you switch from boots to wearing sandals This is for example! Shit will make a nigga curse When worse comes to worse, you be the first to disperse now We don't BELIEVE your man was living like that Hoping to find that nigga see exactly where his heart was at It's a damn shame how Son know your style, know your name Watch how he pull your file, make you wish you never fuckin came NOW Even the hardest motherfucker has his final day So kill that shit you talkin, and be about your fuckin way
Chorus 2X
Verse Two: Busta Rhymes
Yo, everyday I see you on the block smoking With a bunch of niggaz scoping on how they can split you WIDE open You don't even know what's going on up in your circle Awful murder niggaz itch to leave you black blue and purple Ahh, your man came to put you on and tried to make you bleed Hit you with some shit that left you flippin mad in disbelief You just can't believe that niggaz that you smoke with is on it And the way they rass they really got to bust yo' shit! Thought your man was joking, paid no attention to the situation Got with your crew and just continued smoking Now your man sit and watch you panic In any other situation you'd be fronting like you gigantic I guess all that fronting is your main talent It's apparent, he can see right through you like you transparent Hah, aiyyo you need to watch your back you running out of time Watch your step, cuz you only inches from the finish line
Chorus 2X
Verse Three: Busta Rhymes
Now, there's about a million motherfuckers on your trail Quick to bust your shit for every single time your words failed I'm watchin all the moves you makin fuck the speculatin Super-bitch nigga you just be fakin if I'm not mistakin Every move you fake you dig your grave a little deeper Come around me with that shit I'ma flip it to my brother's keeper Listen to this: overstress my emphasis I insist to fix and bring the noise as long as I exist Now you walk around the streets with all that shit you speak And step inside the club just to receive the illest ass beating HOO! Take a look around you get no type of sympathy Impatiently, I sit and watch you die in your own iniquity Hah, now you out dead and stinkin, and your eyes are no longer blinkin Time caught up quick, with your little BITCH way of thinkin Ahh, watch you diminish, while your niggaz have to put a finish On your misleading false image
Chorus 5X
Word is bond, bond is life You shall be willing to give your life Before your words shall fail All those who out there frontin, misleading they peoples Actin other than they really are It will catch up to you player, word is bond So that's, specifically, to all those fake motherfuckers Living out here on that bullshit Trying to act like they know what the fuck's going on
Compositores: Trevor Smith (Busta Rhymes), George L Spivey (D J Scratch) ECAD: Obra #5696297