Writer(s) : SANTIAGO, VICTOR/WILLIAMS, PHARRELL L./HUGO, CHAD
Artist: N.O.R.E. Lyrics
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Album: Track 11 on God's Favorite
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[Intro] Head bussa . . . Head bussa . . . Head bussa . . . Head bussa . . . I don't know 'bout you, but I'm a head bussa (head bussa) [Verse: Noreaga] [Chorus 4x] Hey yo . . . Yo, N-O-are, you can catch me in my favorite car (car) Drop Lex, black truck, Gordo the "Lazy are" And if you is what you smoke then - hey y'all I'm like a pitcher, I throw my hits crazy far I'm never faired up (faired up) I got some lead what (lead what) I'm like whatever God, ain't a ***** better guard? And keeps some chicks in my whips and they always just **** my head up I rock a Neptunes beat like it's a leather garm Know about you, but I'm a bed crusher See I don't know about you, but I'm a head bussa Chicks love us anyway, cause we just make hits You see it's God Favorite, he built the project bricks No Re-my, I'm good with just water and fish Thugged out Militainment see we focused - ***** Stand strong in the pain, see me hold my pivot Or you can catch me in LA, with a Mexican midget [Chorus 4x] See I'm a Philly *****, I can't **** wit a duck chick [Verse: Noreaga] Yo, yo . . . Automatic whips, can't **** wit a slut chick Jo-se (Jose) I'm so relaxed it seems The first ***** sellin' cracks through a fax machine **** Star Tek (Star Tek) I hold my gun in the raids And I can make planes crash through a two-way page *****s stack like, act like I ain't made mad classics Like I'm a new artist, demerit these rat bastards But that's aight cause I'm a still make more And I could sell bad work, still say that it's raw I make songs for the poor *****s The most "Grimey" and raw *****s, the ki-ki-kickin' your door *****s Go arm wrestle next, see whose neck I break She a bed crusher, see I'm a bad person I send my little man home (dude go home man) have to check out late [Chorus 7x] [Bridge] Duh . . . Look, I'm a see if ya sayin' my name (N-O-R) Ain't a damn - thing the same Millionaires, that change the game That got 9/11 clouds (clouds) and bullets that grain Don't calm down (down) this is soldier game (fa' sho *****) Kill for money, the raw and the caine Let me, see you flag, the color of car ***** Fix your fingers, show me what you are [Verse: Noreaga] That I'm a keep makin' hits, it ain't hard to sell See I'm a head bussa (bussa) it ain't hard to tell And them Def Jam *****s put that paper behind us We left that other label, and the hatin' behind us *****s want beef, it ain't hard to find us We in the 'Lac Truck, them *****s in Path-Finders and-uh People wanna scream they like N.O.R.E.! , N.O.R.E.! The crime scene like N.O.R.E.! , N.O.R.E.! Man, I'm outta' town my *****s travel, too A new-car, ask the Jake, they call me "know ****" We in LA getting' sucked off in Malibu And hold this, yea ***** just know this Cause everytime they question me, I don't know **** I always drink Henny, hardly know the 'Cris Straight monster-wrist, I keep a ill beat And *****s hardly like you, your **** still weak [Bridge] [Chorus 8x]
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Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, SONGS MUSIC PUBLISHING