Chill Busta Rhymes (Ft. J-Doe & Reek Da Villian)

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
I tried to tell a nigga chill
Call him David, put the mess in the mada Copperfield
For real, niggas know the drill
Mommy on that molly while she pop another pill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, tell that bitch to chill
For real, nigga better chill
And if they don’t, just line em up
It’s perfect timin for the kill

[Verse 1: Reek Da Villian]
I don’t care about the money that your man make
I hit a homerun, now I’m runnin through my fan base
Up the green from a garden to a landscape
Sounds be the only lingo cops will never translate
They pull up, I pull out that thing and pop it
I ain’t fuckin with no dicks, I’m on that Lorena Bobbitt
I’m no Davie but them ladies say the boys way be Crockett
I’m the plug in the street and you a motherfuckin socket
Had to chill for a while but I’m welcomed back
Was low key, how I’m underneath the welcome mat
Now the bitches see me in the Forbes
So if I give you my number, like a finny you should call
You should tell your man to chill cause you’re fuckin with a dog
And he be firecracker flaming and you fuckin with a ball
I got them crills on the street, got Jahlil on the beat
Only Phantoms, ain’t no Caddys when we roll out in them fleets