The Neptunes – Light Your Ass On Fire lyrics

(perfomed by Busta Rhymes feat. Pharrell Williams)

[Female Voice]
Clones..

[Intro: Pharrell Williams]
Whachu say your name was?
Well um, lookin real sexy right now
You and your girls, are lookin good
Look why don’t y’all take off y’all jackets
What’s your name baby? word? okay
Tell your friend right there this, this my man Busta

[Verse: Busta Rhymes]
Hah, I know you starving for this shit
Baby I’m feeling your hunger
I’m so clean call a nigga Felix Ungar
So what if I said it baby I’m still gon’ tell ya
I hope your ass bigger than Willona and Thelma
Listen, it’s Busta Rhymes bitch I ain’t never fail ya
Your ass all over like paraphernalia, hmm
See the police gon jail ya
For walking around wit the kind of ass that’ll kill ya now
Don’t worry bout it I got money to bail ya
Shorty stacking like a mule, type of shit that’ll scare ya
Headboard bang, bump the side of ya head
Watch how ya ass spread spill all off the side of the bed now, hmm
Now whachu do to the dread? baby your ass really changed
What he initially said because a nigga dead
But fuck em! cause now we vibing and talking and shit
I love to hear your ass go (ga ga goon) when you walking and shit

[Hook: Pharrell Williams]
Move girl like your ass on fire – like your ass on fire
Move girl like your ass on fire – like your ass on fire
Move girl I’ll light your ass on fire – I’ll light your ass on fire
Move girl I’ll light your ass on fire – Bitch I’ll light that ass on fire
Move girl I’ll light your ass on fire

[Verse: Busta Rhymes]
Bust it, baby I know you probably really
Need a table cloth to cover your ass
Digging in your pocket while you rubbing yo ass
Shit so big just put the club in yo ass
Prep the H2 park it right infront of yo ass
I see your little gap between your cunt and yo ass
And make you jump inside the whip and smoke a blunt wit yo ass
I’m saying hmm, the shit’ll spread like a rash
The way they ass wiggles see I got the shit on a smash now listen
I light the L smell a wiff of the hash
And bag all the bitches, now watch you see me zip in a flash
I’m saying hmm, now I’m a put you on blast
Just like a tint window when you put your shit on the glass
Bust right through the window then it sit on the dash
And have a nigga driving wreckless till you making him crash
(Hah, c’mon) we making money and shit
Now pop your muffin while we be watching you shaking your shit

[Hook]

[Bridge]
Welcome to Hot-and-Hazyville
It make you wanna dance till you break your heels
I know you love the way the God make your feel
Now watch me get deeper than a Navy Seal (Navy Seal?)
It got a crazy feel, shit feel like you in a danger field
Hypnotize, stuck it in her, daze for real
That’s exactly why we call this one Hazyville (Hazyville)

[Verse: Busta Rhymes]
Baby, just shake ya ass till you spread on the floor
I noticed that your ass too big for your draws
You need a – a chiropractor just to marry yo ass
To tell the truth you need a tractor just to carry yo ass
Fo reala, you motherfuckers probably think that I’m playing
All bitches love to talk and all that other shit I be saying
And going hmm, see how you putting it down
I love the way you shake it throw it around!

[Hook]

[Bridge]

Juelz Santana – Ol Thang Back (feat. Jadakiss, Busta Rhymes, Method Man & Redman)

[Intro]
Listen, you might learn some
Jahlil Beats, holla at me
Jadakiss where you been, where you at
This rap is wack
I want that old thing back
I want that old thing back

[Verse 1: Jadakiss]
Some niggas tell a lot, some niggas sell a lot
Some niggas used to be mad nice, then fell a lot
Albums still trash I don’t care who the hell you got
Portraying the role of a G, we can tell you not
Sorry to bother you, I’m only doing what a father do
Your production is horrible, you’ll forever be a nerd
And your metaphors are better off, never being heard
I came in grinding, Puff made me shining
Put ’em both together, a protege of the 90’s
Grew up, put that bullshit behind me
Started making niggas demises untimely
Looking for me, come to the hood you can find me
Gucci belt right on the waist where the 9 be
.38 right in the garbage, where the packs at
M1 right in the trunk, where the jacks at
Whoever is in arm length will get backslapped
Cause I ain’t playing with these rap cats
This is the flow you can’t learn
The dutch you can’t burn
Nigga, I’ve got stripes you can’t earn

[Hook: Jadakiss]
Method Man, where you been where you at
These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back
Yeah, I want that old thang back
Yeah, I want that old thang back

[Verse 2: Method Man]
You got the M.E, the M.E., the M.E., the M., M., M.,
The M.E.T.H.O.D. Man
[?] need a dopefiend track
Let me shoot up and lean back
With this needle stuck in my arm, never tuck in my charm
Most my team sling crack
If I hit every corner with G packs
Might cause the man DC to relapse
I’m a Hip hop junkies, who needs rap?
MC’s wack, Killerbees is back in the booth
Mind your beeswax
And fuck a style that you got
We blow a cap at any Energizer bunny right where his battery at
Look, the bastard child of Clarence Thomas and Reagonomics
On every 1st and 15th make sure you pay me homage
Might break a promise but never breaking the code
Got the floor safe, coke in the pot, fiend at the stove
Meth, rock a W on my clothes
I’m a straight rider, straight to the W with these hoes
I’m straight fire, these motherfuckers is froze
Like a skinny supermodel that like to powder her nose

[Hook: Method Man]
Redman, where you been where you at
These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back
I want that old thang back
I want that old thang back

[Verse 3: Redman]
Dope boy, I’m like Rick James, I got that old thang
I got a gold chain, [?] with gold frames
Doc doing the runnerman on Soul Train
With a chinese girl, the chicken get Lo Mein
Propane for the raw, I put her on the streets
My thoughts, the blue magic put on the beats
Game time, Doc rocket like Dominique
Straight vegetarian nigga and ignore the beef
Yeah, Kyrie keep the blow smoking
Slide in the club, cool like the floor frozen
Check out the wild thang got a [?] loco
Big ass and high heels with the toes open
That’s me, 90’s MC
Fuck a Grammy awards, underground is tax free
Look in the mirror I feel fantastic
The mirror said ‘you are, you conceited bastard’

[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
Santana, where you been where you
These rap niggas is wack, I want that old thang back
I want that old thang back
Tell ’em I want that old thang back

[Verse 4]
I came to bring the pain
Put niggas to shame, simple and plain
They gon’ remember my name
And it’s all for respect not fame
So don’t play with me
You could give ’em rope, they still can’t hang with me
Pass the baton, they still can’t race with me
So far ahead of these niggas they still chasing me
I wouldn’t be surprised if niggas ghostwriters got ghostwriters
Nothing cease to amaze you
Labels used to care, even though they was raping me
Now it’s 360 deals, modern day slavery
Fuck you pay me, I’m the one who calling
[?] or fame over fortune
The game done changed, the sound done changed
All these niggas sound the same
The word loyalty don’t even sound the same
Good thing I keep the pound, when it bang it always sound the same
I aim at the game, the real shall remain
Neck full of water like I drowned my chain
Flier than a nigga jumping out the plane
Higher than you niggas, you can finally [?]
Better than you niggas that’s without me saying
Treat the money like the work, we don’t count we weight it
[?], aim it, blaze it, flame it
[?] shower head, you don’t want me spraying
Enough with the mumble jumble
Santana back though, can I get a drum roll?
Whole lotta kush and it’s stuffed in a fronto
Fiends still say my work taste like gumbo
Yeah, bring that old thang back
I was told to whip it up and bring the whole thang back
When I was [?], you was jumping rope
I was runnin’ out of bags, you was playing tag
While you was hop scotching, I was drop shopping
At the dealer paying cash for them paper tags
While you was pop locking, I was Glock popping
Getting to the cash, brown paper bags
Blowing money fast and it never last
Yeah, they make it fast, barely make it back
Haters gonna suffer, I’m okay with that
All this garbage, time to throw away the trash

A Tribe Called Quest – Dis Generation

[Verse 1: Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Jarobi, & Phife]
In the box with the capital G, balling the beat
Status, Chris Paul and John Wall in the league
Grabbin’ mics till the knuckles’ll bleed, ’cause I believe
The potent and the quote will have ya geek like speed
If rationale is naturale, then we’ll weave
It’s all edges and peas
Settin’ picks, we on a permanent steez
I’m in a world where my princess is Leia
And she feeling my Vader
And my lure grows greater and greater
Chemtrails droppin’ poisonous vapors
Had to shake her like gator
Been trill, nigga, process the data
Blu-ray wave follow a beta, I’ll DVR for later
Cop a [?] with a [?]
You can’t define us, XYZ-Z, it’s the generation
Elitists have you cheatin’, virtual think pieces
See, these written words provided by science, brains defying
Thoughts heavy, baby, they’re a major appliance
Leave a [?] flyest [?] through a giant
Dude’s nice, he tight, screwed in with some pliers
Cool with some bias, yeah, nigga, cool with some brothers
Never know tattletales, only ya’ll don’t know us
Yeah, show me, generation, show us what you gon’ show us
So listen, mami, [?]
Mouthpiece like [?] with a jubilant noise
Dude’s rude and it’s useless as coin, shoot ’em boys
Versed and rehearsed in the soothing of loins
Talk to Joey, Earl, Kendrick, and Cole, gatekeepers of flow
They are extensions of instinctual soul
It’s the highest in commodity grade and you could get it today

[Chorus]
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Rules the nation

[Verse 2: Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Jarobi, & Phife]
One hit and readin’ pages of Poe
Telly is low, Cuddlebunny ready to go
Day of the dead, bury all the zombies instead
And it’s just your aftermath, Busta cuttin’ your dreads
Bruce Leein’ niggas, why you niggas UFC
Smoke tree on niggas, sizzle out your USB
Surge pricing on these Ubers, I’mma get me a cab
Yo, where Jarobi at?
I’m vibing on impeccable grass
I be in NYC waiting for that law to pass
[?] been waiting for a Jet’s title since last
[?] gangrene on that ass
Magic Mike on the mic, David Blane, Douglas Henning
In the church of Busta Rhymes it’s my sermon you’re getting horizontalspittin’, I’m the exorcist of your writtens
Don’t interrupt me, nigga
Sorry, that’s a sin I’m forgiving
Like how we be skipping on beats like cooking crack in the kitchen
W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-wait
Nah, just out the package, dry your [?]
This mad city’s not a game, easy, quiet on set
Phife, student of the past, trailblazing the day
Now they knowledge’in and tryin’ ta swept up in a phase
It’s the highest of commodity grade and you could get it-get it-get it-get it today

[Chorus]
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Dis generation
Rules the nation

[Outro]
This is our generation, generation, ah
This our generation, generation, ah
This our generation, generation, ah