Busta Rhymes - What Up lyrics

Yeah! yeah, Busta Bust down, Flipmode now
I know what y'all feel like doin
Go 'head and crash your whip
In the fuckin wall
It's cool, niggas we gets busy

Fo' sho', spit rogue
Get mo' bout to kick in the door dick sore
Split whores 'til they shit on the floor
Clique more sick from when you
Use to see us before
Shit, kill a nigga quick
Niggas know my rapport
Keep workers on the strip that
Be ready for war
Brick I flip a little quicker if
They shit in the store
Rip, maybe 'til they drop
And they shit in they drawers
Shit crazy when I pop
And I'm grippin the four
Thick bitches in the spot
Watch 'em strip for the sport
Spit vicious for the block
Yeah we swingin a torch
Stick niggas for they shit
Thank 'em for they support quick nigga
Better quit snitchin down at the court
Check track a little slick and try
To go on my Forbes
Cause we stackin like we rich
And we holdin the fort
This time, we had to bring it
Guess what we brought
The hottest shit to bang from LA
To the streets of New York

All my people, get drunk, get high
(what up!?)
Get money, get rich, get fly (what up!?)
Get stupid, get busy, get live (what up!?)
Jump all in your whip, turn the key and drive
(what up!?)
Make a mill' yeah we gon' make about five
(what up!?) we speak the truth and we
Ain't talkin no jive (what up!?)
I'm speakin to the streets
And everybody's widdit (what up!?)
Once again you know we only come to get it
(what up!?)

Ha, I stay wicked now I'm back on the strip
Like I went on a vacation and
I'm back from my trip
Nuff radio rotation like I'm sailin a ship
Or when the team circle the block
Busy trailin my clique
Truck packed fulla niggas with the
Strap and the whip
Get the gat out of the stash
Put it back on my hip
Gat butt you in the face
Split and fatten your lip
Blood hit the floor louder than
The clap when it drip
I credit your name with bullets
Read the back of the script
My victim's initials engraved on the
Back of the clip
Chicks love the way we roll
How the movement is thick
So official like my name's on
The back of your bitch
Pay triple for the name on
The back of the stitch
Name like the whole city now
I'm changin the pitch
Kick back kinda crazy when
I'm holdin the fifth
Think you nicer than the God
Shit is only a myth
Grab ahold of the masses
I was born with a gift
Niggas be runnin they trap
Throw 'em over the cliff
Thinkin and drinkin the Guinness
Busy holdin the spliff
Flippin and shittin on niggas 'til
We old and we stiff
I don't even drive whips
Throw the shit on the lift 12 hours
One worker do the whole of the shift
I do the thing to make you open your mouth
And give you shit to bang the Midwest
And the rest of the South

All my people, get drunk, get high
(what up!?)
Get money, get rich, get fly (what up!?)
Get stupid, get busy, get live (what up!?)
Jump all in your whip, turn the key and drive
(what up!?)
Make a mill' yeah we gon' make about five
(what up!?) we speak the truth and we
Ain't talkin no jive (what up!?)
I'm speakin to the streets
And everybody's widdit (what up!?)
Once again you know we only come to get it
(what up!?)