Busta Rhymes - Calm Down
[Intro: Busta Rhymes]
Turn my mic up
Turn my mic up
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
(Ready on the right) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the left) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the right) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the left) Fuck it, blackout, niggas!
[Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
(Oh, my Lord!) Lower the casket down (Down!)
Sprinkle the ash, or get your ass kicked, pow! (Pow!)
Frown while I shit on your crown, skip town (Town!)
Ground zero, Shapiro, the king cash cow (Cow—Cow)
Do I make 'em say "Wow!"? Strip! (Ow!)
Bow! I sit with the pound, Click, (Blaow!) Blaow!
Click, click, (Blaow!) Click, (Blaow!)
Stop traffic, dropping them classics, flip now
Bitches, I’m making them skip with thou
Art, you don’t really want start, when I growl (Growl)
(Rawr, rawr, rawr!)
Let me come and mop up the knockoffs
When I pop off and never stop, 'cause
When we do come through, you better lock doors (Pause!)
The wolves wanna eat, peep how they lock jaws
No need to cook up the coke, you see? We cop raw
And if you ain’t had enough—
What in the fat fishes of a phenomenal fahrvergnügen fuck is going on?
Back with the B.A Baracus, callous bang, on another song
I'ma have these niggas nervous
And clipping they nails and dribbling
And witness them, nibble them, like sunflower seed shells
See these scales, got my weight up heavy, like three whales
And I shit on these males, till it's stinkin'
Fouler, than a weed smell, nigga, your tree fell
See how they Twitter, Facebook and Instagramming an email?
Talking I'm sick, I got them shook and I bang 'em at retail
Until they cripple, see I cook, like I’m slanging a weed sale
Until I triple bred, and whoop ‘em and drag 'em like females (*Gasp!*)
Oh, see well, these niggas already know
The way that I fuck shit up, minus the details, the case is shut
Your bitch remind me of replacement butt
Kind of an ancient slut, it's going down
Like she was a basement fuck
Swell up this shit, like I’m sticking steaks in they gut
So gracefully and graciously, I painfully wake niggas up
Ragdolling these niggas, and attacking
Like apes in the cut, I’m waiting for the taking
While I break niggas neck, like a bracelet (Fuck!)
It’s kinda like me having a case in the truck
And drinking ‘til I’m blasted
Harassing and erase a nigga (What!?)
Keeping 'em open and blacking until I’m leaving ‘em stuck
And got ‘em happier, than a child in a park chasing a duck
While I’m chasing a buck
These funny niggas be chasing they luck
I be lacing them up, like boots
When I’m pushing they face in the mud— (Ahh!)
Missiles I fling, while I spit live wire
‘Til this shit circling back around
With more fire for me to melt a brick surfacing back a sound
While I light up shit that'll cause a quick worship
And gather around, it's certain this shit'll splatter cliques
Painful and make ‘em scatter (Blink!)
Shameful, the way I shatter (Split!)
Shit apart, it doesn't matter (Rip!)
Your head up off your shoulders (With)
Bullets bigger than a boulder
And they break ‘em and they know it's (Classic!)
And the way it’s going, you could easily get your (ass-kicked)
See, me and Shady together; we’re crazy
Like baking a vomit and rabies cake, like a pastry bitch
(We that sick!) Like I come from Haiti
I’m suggesting you pay me, don’t make me wanna spaz
(Al-la-la!) Like I’m a crazy Israeli (Bastards!)
While I bite the beat up, and I'm starting to heat up (Yack!)
I’m chopping your foot off
Now it’s mine, and I’m putting my feet up (Black!)
Back to the hood and off to the wild
And I’m hoping you protect your child
And I been blacking out so long
Niggas is asking if the hook had died, nah
But the beat is fried!
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes + Sample]
Yo
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
("Yo, chill, man—chill!")
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Fuck it, blackout, niggas!
[Verse 2: Eminem]
Apparently, there's a light contagiousness to this tirade
It just might make you sick, so irate
With this my brain is just like a fucking fried egg
Is my mind scrambled? 'Cause I'm lit—narrow minded
But go through such a wide range of this emotion
That my rage has gotta squeeze through it sideways
I just pulled up in Clive Davis's driveway
With his personal memoir, saying "He's bi!"
Waving a nine, a picket sign, egging his ride
Making him cry, "Rape!"—then arrive naked
And drive straight through the gay pride parade
"Yay! Yippee-Ki-Yay!", 'cause here I—
Wait, did the world just pee on my leg?
And should I take it as a sign
Maybe to take 'em back into time? (Shady!)
I stuck out like a sore thumb, so I gave 'em the finger
To take the attention away
From my stinking face it was bringing
Changed the whole complexion of the game
But just in case you was thinking an inkling of replacing
The kingpin of crazy, you're wasting your ink then
So if this is any indication of what you may be facing
You better make a distinction 'cause you fake imitations
Are leaving a bad taste, fuck making a bad impression
That's the worst impersonation I've ever seen, and
Who raps nasally? Eyes hazely?
Rhymes crazily, but sounds like he may
Need some Flonase when he's speaking?
What kind of stupid question is that?
"Hey, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln!
Other than your husband's fucking brains that were leaking
How'd you think that play was this weekend?"
You ain't the real Slim Shady, sit your ass down, faggot (Ew)
See me on a ballot, I'm running for class clown
Rich Democrat, bitch, so I'm just the candidate
To come fuck up the whole party
Me and Flipmode starting a campaign
To have every campus, on a fucking rampage
Act my goddamn age? I am—eight!
So let's get smashed and wake up the next day
With the room trashed, covered in Band-Aids
Glass ashtray smashed
Champagne splashed on the lampshades
But this ain't up for debate, this is undebatable
Shady for president, ho, don't make me go take it back
To the days of old, with Sway & Tech radio
When I was taking so much NoDoz and LSD
I almost fell asleep on the Wake Up Show
Fuck you telling me, fools?
I was rippin' shop, raisin' hell up in Drew's
When Penelope Cruz was still developing boobs
Me and Bus put it down, like a sick pet
You're fucking with vets, dog, fucking internet bloggers
"I sit in front of my computer all day
And comment on everything, I'm an expert on everything, Everything sucks—play the next song!"
Guess if I hopped out your freaking laptop, you idiot prick
With Biggie and kicked the living shit out you, I'd be dead wrong
Son of God; I'm the S.O.G
Like a wet log, pores never get clogged
'Cause I'm so full of self-esteem that I sweat fog
Yes, yes, y’all (Wah!)—steady on the left, y’all
Step off, 'fore you get stepped on
Soft? 'Bout as commercial as my fucking Learjet
Jealousy’ll get you green as a Chia Pet
I can see that you’re visibly upset, dog
Alert, alert, girl—alert
Once you enter in my house of pain, you're in a world of hurt
So ("Jump around! Jump! Jump!")
Get that ass shaking ("Jump around! Jump!")
Came to hit you with a fan favorite
But if you too fly for coach, better get them arms
And freaking hands flailing and ("Jump!")
Like Van Halen and pray for a damn tailwind
More afraid of success than I am of failure
So what does that tell ya?
That on a grand scale I don’t give a fuck about nothing
Like Stan mailing his last piece of fan mail
Before he ran straight into the damn railing
[Outro: Sample]
"Yo, chill, man—chill!"
[Produced by Scoop DeVille]
Turn my mic up
Turn my mic up
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
(Ready on the right) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the left) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the right) Ayo, calm down, nigga
(Ready on the left) Fuck it, blackout, niggas!
[Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
(Oh, my Lord!) Lower the casket down (Down!)
Sprinkle the ash, or get your ass kicked, pow! (Pow!)
Frown while I shit on your crown, skip town (Town!)
Ground zero, Shapiro, the king cash cow (Cow—Cow)
Do I make 'em say "Wow!"? Strip! (Ow!)
Bow! I sit with the pound, Click, (Blaow!) Blaow!
Click, click, (Blaow!) Click, (Blaow!)
Stop traffic, dropping them classics, flip now
Bitches, I’m making them skip with thou
Art, you don’t really want start, when I growl (Growl)
(Rawr, rawr, rawr!)
Let me come and mop up the knockoffs
When I pop off and never stop, 'cause
When we do come through, you better lock doors (Pause!)
The wolves wanna eat, peep how they lock jaws
No need to cook up the coke, you see? We cop raw
And if you ain’t had enough—
What in the fat fishes of a phenomenal fahrvergnügen fuck is going on?
Back with the B.A Baracus, callous bang, on another song
I'ma have these niggas nervous
And clipping they nails and dribbling
And witness them, nibble them, like sunflower seed shells
See these scales, got my weight up heavy, like three whales
And I shit on these males, till it's stinkin'
Fouler, than a weed smell, nigga, your tree fell
See how they Twitter, Facebook and Instagramming an email?
Talking I'm sick, I got them shook and I bang 'em at retail
Until they cripple, see I cook, like I’m slanging a weed sale
Until I triple bred, and whoop ‘em and drag 'em like females (*Gasp!*)
Oh, see well, these niggas already know
The way that I fuck shit up, minus the details, the case is shut
Your bitch remind me of replacement butt
Kind of an ancient slut, it's going down
Like she was a basement fuck
Swell up this shit, like I’m sticking steaks in they gut
So gracefully and graciously, I painfully wake niggas up
Ragdolling these niggas, and attacking
Like apes in the cut, I’m waiting for the taking
While I break niggas neck, like a bracelet (Fuck!)
It’s kinda like me having a case in the truck
And drinking ‘til I’m blasted
Harassing and erase a nigga (What!?)
Keeping 'em open and blacking until I’m leaving ‘em stuck
And got ‘em happier, than a child in a park chasing a duck
While I’m chasing a buck
These funny niggas be chasing they luck
I be lacing them up, like boots
When I’m pushing they face in the mud— (Ahh!)
Missiles I fling, while I spit live wire
‘Til this shit circling back around
With more fire for me to melt a brick surfacing back a sound
While I light up shit that'll cause a quick worship
And gather around, it's certain this shit'll splatter cliques
Painful and make ‘em scatter (Blink!)
Shameful, the way I shatter (Split!)
Shit apart, it doesn't matter (Rip!)
Your head up off your shoulders (With)
Bullets bigger than a boulder
And they break ‘em and they know it's (Classic!)
And the way it’s going, you could easily get your (ass-kicked)
See, me and Shady together; we’re crazy
Like baking a vomit and rabies cake, like a pastry bitch
(We that sick!) Like I come from Haiti
I’m suggesting you pay me, don’t make me wanna spaz
(Al-la-la!) Like I’m a crazy Israeli (Bastards!)
While I bite the beat up, and I'm starting to heat up (Yack!)
I’m chopping your foot off
Now it’s mine, and I’m putting my feet up (Black!)
Back to the hood and off to the wild
And I’m hoping you protect your child
And I been blacking out so long
Niggas is asking if the hook had died, nah
But the beat is fried!
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes + Sample]
Yo
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
("Yo, chill, man—chill!")
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Ayo, calm down, nigga
Fuck it, blackout, niggas!
[Verse 2: Eminem]
Apparently, there's a light contagiousness to this tirade
It just might make you sick, so irate
With this my brain is just like a fucking fried egg
Is my mind scrambled? 'Cause I'm lit—narrow minded
But go through such a wide range of this emotion
That my rage has gotta squeeze through it sideways
I just pulled up in Clive Davis's driveway
With his personal memoir, saying "He's bi!"
Waving a nine, a picket sign, egging his ride
Making him cry, "Rape!"—then arrive naked
And drive straight through the gay pride parade
"Yay! Yippee-Ki-Yay!", 'cause here I—
Wait, did the world just pee on my leg?
And should I take it as a sign
Maybe to take 'em back into time? (Shady!)
I stuck out like a sore thumb, so I gave 'em the finger
To take the attention away
From my stinking face it was bringing
Changed the whole complexion of the game
But just in case you was thinking an inkling of replacing
The kingpin of crazy, you're wasting your ink then
So if this is any indication of what you may be facing
You better make a distinction 'cause you fake imitations
Are leaving a bad taste, fuck making a bad impression
That's the worst impersonation I've ever seen, and
Who raps nasally? Eyes hazely?
Rhymes crazily, but sounds like he may
Need some Flonase when he's speaking?
What kind of stupid question is that?
"Hey, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln!
Other than your husband's fucking brains that were leaking
How'd you think that play was this weekend?"
You ain't the real Slim Shady, sit your ass down, faggot (Ew)
See me on a ballot, I'm running for class clown
Rich Democrat, bitch, so I'm just the candidate
To come fuck up the whole party
Me and Flipmode starting a campaign
To have every campus, on a fucking rampage
Act my goddamn age? I am—eight!
So let's get smashed and wake up the next day
With the room trashed, covered in Band-Aids
Glass ashtray smashed
Champagne splashed on the lampshades
But this ain't up for debate, this is undebatable
Shady for president, ho, don't make me go take it back
To the days of old, with Sway & Tech radio
When I was taking so much NoDoz and LSD
I almost fell asleep on the Wake Up Show
Fuck you telling me, fools?
I was rippin' shop, raisin' hell up in Drew's
When Penelope Cruz was still developing boobs
Me and Bus put it down, like a sick pet
You're fucking with vets, dog, fucking internet bloggers
"I sit in front of my computer all day
And comment on everything, I'm an expert on everything, Everything sucks—play the next song!"
Guess if I hopped out your freaking laptop, you idiot prick
With Biggie and kicked the living shit out you, I'd be dead wrong
Son of God; I'm the S.O.G
Like a wet log, pores never get clogged
'Cause I'm so full of self-esteem that I sweat fog
Yes, yes, y’all (Wah!)—steady on the left, y’all
Step off, 'fore you get stepped on
Soft? 'Bout as commercial as my fucking Learjet
Jealousy’ll get you green as a Chia Pet
I can see that you’re visibly upset, dog
Alert, alert, girl—alert
Once you enter in my house of pain, you're in a world of hurt
So ("Jump around! Jump! Jump!")
Get that ass shaking ("Jump around! Jump!")
Came to hit you with a fan favorite
But if you too fly for coach, better get them arms
And freaking hands flailing and ("Jump!")
Like Van Halen and pray for a damn tailwind
More afraid of success than I am of failure
So what does that tell ya?
That on a grand scale I don’t give a fuck about nothing
Like Stan mailing his last piece of fan mail
Before he ran straight into the damn railing
[Outro: Sample]
"Yo, chill, man—chill!"
[Produced by Scoop DeVille]
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