Fall Back lyrics

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
n*gga
You know it's a pimpin affair when the car enters
While you give your hoes mostly ice like bartenders
We shop heavy; a bunch of hard spenders
I'm a giant
In rap it's difficult for small forwards to guard centers
Don't let me hit you with the cali bro
I'm raining with the record of a street legend
And you ain't up my alimo
My n*gga buggin' off that tan grass and hash
It'll cut a n*gga's sh*t quicker than Grand Master Flash
Your sh*t ain't gonna never pop like 10 gold chains
That's why your b*tch blowin' on me like Nintendo games
I ain't surprised most these hoes been the same since school
Doing more bending over than a game of pool
Get your own bread
Don't sweat it I got some
Now guns are like tattoos n*gga, even Bow Wow's got one
You f*ckin' with a champion
If I can't do it, it can't be done
Why you think we're number 1?

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
A lot of this n*ggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'
Perfectly honest
You n*ggas ain't gonna do nothin'
Chill yall...
And my n*gga you can hold that
If you don't want to feel the ratchet
n*gga fall back
[Verse 2: Fabolous]
Right now, they're trying to hit me with a mob of feds...
They say I got that coke responsible
For that sh*t Whitney and Bobby said
Plus I got a chick with me that can slob a head
With a looser neck
Than the dolls with the bobble heads
She do her job in bed...
And slide down polls
Quick enough to change in the Batman and Robin's threads
The word has probably spread
If you hustle and don't want to end up in a lobby dead
Go and get a job instead
Cause if I slid through your area...
It'll probably be with them crazy little kids from Liberia
Who don't think of bids when they airin' ya?
Cause they so hungry, for a peeking of a fridge they will bury ya
You think you hot cause your chain hangs from neck to navel
When you're just another writer for your record label
Look how empty your pockets are
I can tell you never had 100 Grand
Unless it was a chocolate bar
I keep a full clip of shells that explode
Cause the canaries on my wrist look like the yellow brick road
And now they're bringing me models from Europe
And jars of hydro just as sticky as a bottle of syrup
I'm on the move like I ride a van
And I can walk through any gang territory
With the same suit as Spiderman
I'm a winner with my first two
And I'm stunting until my death
So I want spinners on my Hurse too
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
A lot of this n*ggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'
Perfectly honest
You n*ggas ain't gonna do nothin'
Chill yall...
And my n*gga you can hold that
If you don't want to feel the ratchet
n*gga fall back

[Verse 3: Busta Rhymes]
See now we own buildings
Totin' the Eiffel Towers
And if you violate
I'll put a hole in your cauliflower
Stacks of Serena Williams paper
Pushing a mean coup
I'll vegetable you n*ggas
Like a broccoli bean soup
Von Dutch flossin ass n*ggas, believe me dude
We jiggalo's dummy
With Emillio, that's the fast money
Look and see the zone that we in
Sipping yak from the 1800's
Specially brewed from the barrels of Napoleon
You never knew the daughter split n*ggas this bad
Left on colostomy diets and wrapped up in a sh*t bag
Rock white fitted's
White T's, 2-X
Coppin whips from overseas
Can't even drive the sh*t up in the U.S
Look cause we ain't hit you
n*gga thinking he blessed
Thanking the Lord like he was lucky
I'm sorry little n*gga, you next
It's like robbing a n*gga b*tch
You better run in for before
I put this faggot to sleep
Countin' sheep by the hundreds
But now, you and your little friend dead
You n*gga's think something's sweet
I'll sour your sh*t
Like a box of little Lemon Heads
About 80 n*ggas faces will leave you stitches
And have you looking worse
Than baby's born from retarded b*tches
Then I take the whole sh*t
Even your small chain
And have the streets talking about me
Like sports announcers for ball games
A lot of n*ggas wonder why my sh*t stay stickin'
Cause I be talking greasy
Like I was just eating Church's Chicken
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
A lot of this n*ggas be runnin' with their crew frontin'
Perfectly honest
You n*ggas ain't gonna do nothin'
Chill yall...
And my n*gga you can hold that
If you don't want to feel the ratchet
n*gga fall back