[Featuring Busta Rhymes] (verse 1 -- Buckshot) Buck spread love like the Pope but I never spread false hope I bring the bomb squad close Rock you with a dose of TNT What you ain't believe in me? I'm comin' back from of these who be thievin' me I'm incredible also edible Rock it in the stage show, see me in the interview Wanna be worldwide but you get with I You try, you die Don't deny the fact that you got your back blown by bronoculars The way I'm rockin' ya and drop toppin' ya Nolo go for dolo and we tallyin' All my outlaws form a rally and we bomb first fool Pull the toll, see what happen if you hesitate I cut your blood supply short, it's your fault you got caught in the onslaught (hook -- Busta Rhymes) Yo in the onslaught your lives got caught Now we can run the full court all in a blood sport And while we hold the fort cut ya like live shorts Feel the pressure burn wild like (comin' for you) (verse 2) I used to sit back and let a lot of clicks get to my head, wanted to dead a lot of clicks Broke wit' no chips, frontin' in the game wit' a little record deal but still drive the same whip It's a shame ain't it, the vision that they show you in the videos would really make you think that you got the ghetto, oh Don't get me wrong, I ain't tryin' to stay But yo, at the same time I ain't tryin' to run away A lot of family get left behind back on the block still left to grind, some still do crime some do time, but no matter what none of my heads keep an empty shell inside the nine Cock back, Buck on the Evil Dee track and make the mind react Smoke a fat one listen to Buck and get black As a matter of fact even if you don't toke you can feel the contact (hook) (verse 3) See you through the window to your rescue I guess you heard the rest do all that wackness but in fact it's Sounded kinda good 'til you hear this phatness You lack this, what scrap this Record this, oh my Lord this is the warning sign for y'all B.D. wanna ball Is you feelin' me? Let me know somethin' And if you see me with you smoke well let me smoke somethin' Pump it up like he, film me like Spike Lee, body count like Ice-T, do it nicely Hize to see the B.D. Buckshot rappin' he can make the bomb happen All my heads stick to gun clappin' don't change, from my street cats to my man Starang Bang, bang, yo, can you hang yo It's your own fault you got caught up in the rain yo now in the onslaught (hook) x 3