Who Sang Where You Think You Goin'? Flipmode Squad

Flipmode Squad The Imperial cover art
publisher: ©Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
writers: Busta Rhymes, George Spivey, Leroy Jones, Rashia Tashan Fisher, Roger Mcnair, Wayne Notise, William Lewis
release date: 1998
genres: Hip Hop
styles: Thug Rap
length: 4:41
Yeah, where you think you goin'. Where you think you goin'.
Ladies and gentlemen, it's the unit for the 9-8.
Flipmode Squad baby. That's my word.
All you sucker MC's, try to hide this stuff. Come back here.
Where you think you goin', *****. Come back here.
Y'all *****z ain't seein' Jack. **** !!!

Aiiyo, speak the truth.
Too short to let it hurt. Some talk dirt, and be the first slangin' hertz.
Freestylin' of the hum of the birds.
Fall back when I shine on my shine, two shows follow behind.
It's a ****ed up vehicle. Switchin' my lines.
Hotel asks a *****: "Could I share my dimes".
Picture that, when you scared to draw toes.
Playin' me close.
Rollin with the dogs wearin' yesterdays clothes.
Left a fouled sin into my squad without permition.
I started dissin', hopin' you listen. Pay attention.
Fatheresly. The shadow leads you back to the hood.
You want to switch up because some *****s stalked you up.
Or is the fact that they thought you was rollin' with us.
Left you all draged, like two trains crashin' it up.

Aiiyo, Spliff Starr drama, bullpen personna
Type of ***** that would sell crack to your mama
Take the cash you gave me and buy marijuana
Check me boy, in some turbo (?)
Back in the days I bubble drugs like a sauna
Make a ***** boy kill himself like Nirvana
Get 'em like goose feathers, cold weather rock the bamma
Lie in front of the jury, D.A., and Your Honor
I represent street *****s, carry heat *****s
Play for keeps *****s, ain't nothin 'bout me sweet, *****s
I stay token, gun butt your skull open
If you **** wit my squad ***** where you think you goin'?

Where you think you goin'.
Where you think you goin'.
Aiiyo, what you doin *****.
Where you think you goin'.
Where you think you goin'.
Where you think you goin'.
Aiiyo, what you movin for.
Where you think you goin'.
Where you think you goin'.
Where you think you goin'
Aiiyo, what you doin *****.
Where you think you goin'.

You think that you can run (ha)
You think that you can hide (haa)
You best believe you still comin'. I think you better slide.
While you stay *****in', another ***** missin'.
Bodies snatch you up.! Behold the cream. .
Caught in hells kitchen. My trigger fingers itchin'.
Nervous system's ****ed up.
That's why my nerves twitchin'.
Enslave your mentality. ***** brain fried.
We after you, runnin' sergeon for a free ride.
Where you think you goin' son ?
We gon' catch you soon.
We here to take over this ****.
Pour the tycoon.
Blossom and gloom. Capture any ***** sober in a little dark room.
Ha ha ha ha ha.

Uh oh. You lil league boy I know your beats.
You sound bullshitely, You rock .
Swearin' you to ball, when you know you're wack.
In a studio settin' of a reverands track.
Boy ! Rah gets busy, my **** be way slaver.
Curder rapper Ernest like the one slave labour.
One first be like the ***** tap oil.
Loyal to my *****s. Enemies are ****ed around, and riders rappin for you.
Spot stays blowin. Goin' to the top.
Where you think you're goin'.
Pocket stay throwin'. Smooth like the lowin'.
Rap chick flowin'.
Where you think you're goin.


I'm a hard man at work.
Lyrical expert.
Look out before you get hurt.
Bury the dirt. Line for line.
Ramp I be the mastermind.
That's be full time watch me shine.
I know the seven sign.
I'm rich, and still life is a *****.
Losin' snitch like camey fake beggar.
Jim Baker. I take you're life like the undertaker.
Flipmode moneymaker, make that kill for this paper.
It's on the poppin'.
People want to know when the album droppin'.
Start talkin'. Keep walkin'.
Flatbush New York and we live for you.
Sling for you.
My squad struck oil.
Now we coppin' platinum things.
Diamond rings. Nice cosy things.
And a party for free.
From the tunnel to envy.
Ramp's the rugged MC.
My squad keeps growin.
Where you think you goin.'

Chief gunnin' to.
Splash rain potters pooves.
**** is you. Start stand peach.
Chuff for choose.
Scoffer booves.
Now low muscles moves.
Smash crew like statue with jungle jewels.
Son gets school, wit the dummin' crew.
Pay double dues. Cradle to the graves, hustle grooves.
Flesh tissue. Death kiss you. No love for you.
And me the most wanted fool.
Unfriendly in horrical, make power moves.
Snatch colors loose. A dollar rule.
Raw business **** in my hands, and shakes yours with it.
Till you 'cause fridget.
Local or long distance.
Gets master served.
And crash a burn
Like James Evans when I'm blowin'.
**** is wrong wit cha.
Where you think you're goin'.
Where you think you're goin'.
Where you think you're goin'.


CD 1
  • 1 The Imperial Intro
  • 2 To My People
  • 3 Settin' It Off
  • 4 Run for Cover
  • 5 I Got Your Back
  • 6 This Is What Happens
  • 7 Everybody on the Line Outside
  • 8 Last Night
  • 9 Where You Think You Goin'
  • 10 We Got U Opin, Part 2
  • 11 Straight Spittin'
  • 12 Money Talks
  • 13 Cha Cha Cha
  • 14 Hit Em Wit Da Heat
  • 15 Do for Self
  • 16 Everything