(Electronic Beeping noice for about 20 seconds)

We on a brand new page. (“Uh.”) Millennium days,
Desperation on the streets gotta find a new way
Keep the mics and choke holds. The saga unfolds
Machavellian approaches executed by the coach
I’m in these streets like a ghost
The air-jettin’ artist
To the love, I hit ‘em right plus I hit the hardest, man
I got a whole new approach for the rhymin’
You cherry cats slide, I’m holdin out for the Heisman
Uh! You play the rappin’ roll
I take the rap and sold,
And intertwine it wit’ mine and turn a half to whole
I’m just a genie in a Jack bottle
Them fake ballin’-ass cats is just a wack model
This joint knocks wit’ the force of a gat throttle
I live by ‘You put it out, we get it back’ motto
Hey. But who around but just your average reproduction, love
Rap is gettin’ lose so all the ice is screamin’ ‘Thug’
What the hell is wrong? I’m askin’ in this song
One time I smoked hash out of the hippies’ bong
One of us is goin’ laid ’cause I ain’t gettin’ played
I leave you right inside that shitty-ass bed you made
And walk along chuggin’ Baller’s Brains, rockin’ rings
And things and just waitin’ for white rains
I got the drive, dog. I hope the dogs’ ready
My mentality on dime chicks is stay sweaty

Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“It’s the Ummah for all time.”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“The Ummah forevea!”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“GET YOUR WAAAIIIIIIIIIIT…”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“..UP! UP! UP! UP! Yo!” ) wait up.

You wanna shoot dice or wanna shoot rounds?
Wanna sell rhymes or wanna sell pounds?
The decision is yours. I’d rather see tours,

Get chicks wit’ ghetto shit fallin’ out they drawers
My team stay posted. They stay roasted
Niggas who all in it had a hard knock livin’
Administra, rhyme minista, illa treasura
You didn’t know that your man was a legend, huh?
Embonishment for the both of you
I hit the road and I take my whole fuckin’ crew
Cause I’m a Queens cat. (“True.”) To the G’s cat. (“True.”)
Gettin’ money for more than one needs cat. (“Aiiight, c’mon.”)
Condition never peers and (“Take it home, kid.”) mind stands out
From Seattle to South Beach my joint: grand clout
It’s the street commentator, providin’ you wit’ data
On how to live unique and it’s really not neat. We gotta…

Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah.”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“Brand new shit, huh.”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“GET YOUR WAAAIIIIIIIIIIT…”) wait up.
Wait up. Your wait up. Wait up.
Get your (“..UP! UP! UP! YEAH! HA-HAA…”) wait up.

And all the fellas go, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’
And all my ladies go, ‘Uh, uh, uh.’
And all the fellas go, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’
And all the ladies go, ‘Uh, uh, uh.’
Fellas go, ‘Where you at?’
Ladies go, ‘Yo, come back!’
Fellas go…ladies go…
Fellas go…ladies…yo…

A mellow disposition even when it’s pain
Your mental ammunition is faulty wit’ a drain
I puts it down, Lord, Fuck a mic cord
Brother’s out of his game so we can see tours
The innovator – your man still a hater
The Abstract imprint, it stays like a Smint
I got the masses cold, wigglin’ and shakin’ they ass
Ma, you betta get involved and do it real fast

(Beeping starts again but with instrumental backing it)

[Q-Tip]
For real though who really got sick though
On the edge got the ledge hangin’ out of the window
Bird chest niggas witcha winderous fearaf
Fuck around you’ll be against me the size of a meal sack
Cutie little bucks better hit the jake
But that doesn’t mean nothin to the heart within
You cramped up you and your team I’m amped up
And you asses can’t dip my B
My shine what the fuck is on your mind?
Little weaklink rappers better hit the grind
Other brothers ain’t motivated they can’t do it
Not only the opposite train it I ran through it
My music comes on and we march at the dance
Inside of your mind or inside of my pants?
Use a cruel intention that we have is bad
You sick? Drink a NyQuil when I’m bed on your ass
Oh well then here comes the gellatiin
Tips on some sugars but you yap on your sellin’ friends
Now your party is completely blown
Real name is Kamal I’ll make him peep his own
It’s rap time for you that means nap time
Preachin from my joint what the fuck I’ma clap mine
Singin songs in 6 pens with sit tensed
Surpised your ass is the end like the sixth sense
Heavy hitters knockin shit out the park
You didn’t even really play tell me why did you start
Spittin sharp blades lakes with bleach
You wanna play around kid I’m not a walk at the beach
A stroll in the park or your fuckin playground
Put on your headphones and tell me how granades sound
Put on your walkmase and go underneath the town
Q-Tip abstract how I gets down

Chorus: [Busta Rhymes]
All my bitches, dance if you know that you dam sure
Let your pussy drip on the dance floor if you wanna
[Q-Tip]
Get down

[Busta Rhymes]
Fuck that niggas will bust gats
Better lit a make for their rush that cuz they wanna
[Q-Tip]
Get down
[Busta Rhymes]
Blick shit piano sick shit
[Q-Tip]
Get down
[Busta Rhymes]
Chill you can get off my dick and
[Q-Tip]
Get down
[Busta Rhymes]
While I’m on the hook get on your good foot
And blow up the spot for all of you niggas cuz that’s how we
[Q-Tip]
Get down

[Q-Tip]
Comin with the brand new quickly we pant to
The young black man with intentions to band you
See that people need a age in things
So many paid their ways so many phean to stay
I really rhyme cuz I feel I should say things
By the fortualte act rap just so they cop rings
Or maybe because when they was young
They was fronted on a life alone that have their own fun
Now their all grown up to be assholes
I’m giving you the rope will you tie talassels?
You swing dingaling for peas trees
While I sip my Dacarees in the south west breeze
Writings so exciting the pen it keeps
Drippin out jings that’s converted to hems and them
People be hummin in formality next to kin
My family is starvin? You know they want me to win
We forfeit nigga please get off it
Second checkin my name to my office
Mutombo in the lane yo I toss it
Abstract comin through witness abortion

[Q-Tip]
To all the lowriders, and big-riders
Lowride.. what happened in the car yo?
F’real, let a nigga..

Brand new truck, butter soft seat
Four point somethin with a low ride somethin
Ain’t nothin better than to ride out the hood with it
Who lookin better and damn you lookin good in it
Take a chance with a nigga in the choice ride
Listen to the CD’s I play inside
Mos Def, Jay, Prince, and Stevie
Marvin Gaye, Led Zeppelin, and Biggie
And when the evening is over love
Gonna find a nice spot for the Rover love
Do things to make the man in the moon blush
My mind race but I tell my waist don’t rush
You’s a upper echelon piece
So when you find there’s a stash then you don’t freak
You wanna nibble on a nigga ear
And do all the things that make a nigga wanna get near
Oh I’m a Queens representative
Get wild by any means my incentive is
When we done, I start it up again
And ride round with you cause you my special friend, uh

[CHORUS]
OOh, me and you I think we should riiiide
Come on come on come on come on

Don’t worry just done get insiiide
Come on come on come on come on

The second cut, her ride is like art
We get creative in it when we take it out and spin it
The backseat is the canvas we paintin on
Abstract the word we creatin on
The TV’s in the back and the dash too
Got miss napkins and bamboo
Don’t worry, the Tip’s past the legal one
Outkast’s bangin loud in my eardrum
The way the wheels spin cuttin through the still wind
Outsiders lookin in with the ill grin
Fuel injected brand new inspected
Emissions got tested details perfected
Got the Armor All touch, empty out the dutch
No tobacco spillin on my rug clutch
Kick off your shoes show off your peticure
Shake off the blues we all forgettin more
Boy that thing
Stuff that brings ecstasy makin you cling
A little harder than your average hug or grab
Lady tell me this is better than takin a cab
And when you back tell all your girls
You rode around hot-wheelin drinkin, no earl
Vacationin, V up my V8
Just one night we drive and we escape

CHORUS x2

[Q-Tip]
Now picture this a man wit his whole thing in order
Movin through life at will he ill
He make his own teeth growl wit his generous style
But he still no joke wit his wisdom and smile
Givin pounds all around no need to act foolish
Enjoy the time no need to get toolish
I spit it out wit the general feelin that
Once u vibe wit it then you keep on comin back
The north south and east and the west
Wanna see which crew can do it the best
Is it the North, where people drink juice and Smirnoff?
Girls go hard but they lips stay soft
The west where cats throw jets to play
Smokin green all day keep a loked out sway
East..side..the hustle get real
Pretty young things with their mass appeal
Or the south where thugs keep gold in their mouth
Big ol’ girls with their thang hangin’ out
Whatever it is I hope you evolve
We gon push it to my level let the G evolve come on

Chorus: [Q-Tip]
Go..go at..go at it hard..real hard

[Q-Tip]
Everybody take note to your man and ya’ll
And I will take note to the grand
It’s venomous I mean the way they hate

They can’t wait for my to mize me meet my great but
No attention I give them no light
Niggas gotta know that I go through mics
Go through walls with sounds and speakers with real drives
You can’t fuck this nigga from Tribe a yo
I put my mind to the work in here
And make sure that all of ya can understand
That I don’t do bitch, I don’t do tricks
I stay doing beats while you stay layin’ bricks
I do do the things that keep me from the rest
And I do that well if I do suggest yo
Put your hands on your system and feel me out
Or put your hand on your money and hold your cloud
The indoor seat of lady galor seas
She get touched once and she’ll never divorce me
Hey clear your brain as I implimate raw thoughts
You shouldn’t be aware that I don’t get off course
Stayin’ steady on it niggas ain’t ready for it
Flourin’ it hard with A.J. Pettite on it
A noble’s face and I’m doing my pace
Makin’ sure all my conrads get a true taste
What?.. a good shit and I’m ringing your memory
We goin’ hard yo and that’s how it need to be
So wake up and take that sleep outcha eyes my friend
Here’s the mot-to in your ear hear this again

Chorus

Heavy hitters knockin shit out the park
You didn’t even really play tell me why did you start