[Intro: Rampage | Busta Rhymes]
It's I, sire, Richard of Flatbush, speak up
The word on the street is the Rampage return
Uh (Yeah)
Hah, one time, two time
Three time (No doubt), four time (Yeah, what up?)
All my real live niggas, throw your hands up! (No doubt)
All my real live bitches (Yeah), throw your hands up!
All my hustler motherfuckers, throw your hands up! (Check it out, it's like this, y'all)
All my bigger ass niggas, throw your hands up! (Ha)
[Verse 1: Rampage | Busta Rhymes]
The heavyweight Brooklyn bomber that can't rest (Rest), love success
I'm gettin' money progress (-gress)
Travellin' for free (Ugh) from state to state (State)
That's how I get my idea to create, I live motivate (-vate)
I keep on movin', it's been proven (Proven)
I make def jams like Rick Rubin (Ugh)
I stay on my tippy toes wreckin' shows (Ugh), you too slow (Slow)
You can't peep my ill flow, hit this Burning Zone, keep low like an Eskimo (-mo)
F the people (People), still carry my .44
Open the do', it's the real outlaw (-law)
From Flatbush to South Shore givin' you more and more
I just came home from tour (Tour)
It's my time to burn to explore
I'm comin' (Ugh) through the floor with the X, I'm fully gassed to the max
Movin' stacks (Ugh), no fakin' jacks, I'm the baddest man on the wax (Wax)
Messin' around with my Squad, you get taxed
Shittin' Ex-Lax, on hot tracks (Tracks)
I can't relax, breakin' backs (Ugh)
With my NFL Quarterbacks, Flipmode deep (Uh)
We bring hood things to life (Life), put down your gun and light (Light)
I'm in it to win it (Uh), plus I'm wildin' for the nights (Night, ha!)
It's I, sire, Richard of Flatbush, speak up
The word on the street is the Rampage return
Uh (Yeah)
Hah, one time, two time
Three time (No doubt), four time (Yeah, what up?)
All my real live niggas, throw your hands up! (No doubt)
All my real live bitches (Yeah), throw your hands up!
All my hustler motherfuckers, throw your hands up! (Check it out, it's like this, y'all)
All my bigger ass niggas, throw your hands up! (Ha)
[Verse 1: Rampage | Busta Rhymes]
The heavyweight Brooklyn bomber that can't rest (Rest), love success
I'm gettin' money progress (-gress)
Travellin' for free (Ugh) from state to state (State)
That's how I get my idea to create, I live motivate (-vate)
I keep on movin', it's been proven (Proven)
I make def jams like Rick Rubin (Ugh)
I stay on my tippy toes wreckin' shows (Ugh), you too slow (Slow)
You can't peep my ill flow, hit this Burning Zone, keep low like an Eskimo (-mo)
F the people (People), still carry my .44
Open the do', it's the real outlaw (-law)
From Flatbush to South Shore givin' you more and more
I just came home from tour (Tour)
It's my time to burn to explore
I'm comin' (Ugh) through the floor with the X, I'm fully gassed to the max
Movin' stacks (Ugh), no fakin' jacks, I'm the baddest man on the wax (Wax)
Messin' around with my Squad, you get taxed
Shittin' Ex-Lax, on hot tracks (Tracks)
I can't relax, breakin' backs (Ugh)
With my NFL Quarterbacks, Flipmode deep (Uh)
We bring hood things to life (Life), put down your gun and light (Light)
I'm in it to win it (Uh), plus I'm wildin' for the nights (Night, ha!)
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