The Big Bang
They're Only Wanting to Get You
Busta Rhymes
Lyrics & Rhyme Analysis
16
End
299
Internal
96
Multi
335
Slant
6
Chain
Rhyme Groups — hover to spotlight
[Verse 2: PackFM]
It’s outrageous✦ the way I stay ripping✦ up these stages✦
I’ll spit shit so sick, you cats wish you were contagious✦
I’ll spread it like The Plague is, will vibe to silent pages✦
You stay kicking✦ that fake shit, trying to blame it on The Matrix
You so wack, you’ll even✦ leave a thief screaming, “I can’t take it!”
I get Biz like Mark. I’m catching✦ wreck. You catching✦ vapors✦
Don’t play with my yoyo. Fast-paced to slow mo
Invest✦ like Sunoco✦ off an eight-bar promo✦
Tryna✦ battle us? Oh no. That’s not proper✦ etiquette
You know Dominion✦ be the "Fuck You I Rhyme Better"✦ kids
Pass me a sedative. Rhymes✦ are mad sick
With no hands, I’ll throw [tangents?] at catch mitts
Last kid tried to match with, got struck like a matchstick
And I ain’t see him hit the ground—medics came and got him that quick
We stretch like elastic disc and we snap back
Think you got punchlines?✦ The truth is you getting laughed at
I’m a class act and a tough one to follow✦
Heard your rhyme. You suck and it’s obvious✦ that you swallow
‘Cause you ain’t spitting.✦ You need to turn it down a smidgeon
Niggas✦ said that you was def/deaf—they must’ve meant that you don’t listen✦
And if you’re not a singer,✦ then stop all that rifting
‘Cause you hitting✦ ‘bout as hard as three kittens✦ wearing mittens✦
[Verse 3: Substantial]
One of the illest✦ emcees✦ this side the Mississippi
Bust rhymes✦ in your grills, leave you traumatized and sticky✦
Real competition✦ come and go like a quickie
Strictly ripping✦ microphones for the love of it
Giving✦ you my all, but you only✦ catching✦ some of it
Walking on solid✦ ground and we’re the ones✦ up under✦ it
Providing stability✦ our responsibility✦
Even✦ with bronchitis, niggas✦ wouldn’t sound ill to me
Eat an emcee like chicken wing, fried heart
Make a atheist scream, “Oh my God!”
Got dealt a bad hand trying to pull my card
Niggas✦ act hard—like Bruce Willis, they’ll Die Hard
I’ll be the last standing,✦ catch wreck like crash-landings
Put in work like blue collars ‘cause rhyming is demanding✦
That’s why I’ll spit like my life hangs in the balance
For my suburb herbs and my niggas✦ in ghetto✦ housing
Fuck a pale horse—beware of the black stallion✦
Y’all played like gold-plated dollar-sign medallions
My superb flow go from zero✦ to turbo.✦ What can I
Say? We here to stay like the slang term “yo”
[Verse 4: Rok One]
Check it. I’ll get loose with more juice than Tropicana
Cock the hammer,✦ squeeze off, drop the grammar
When I rock the crowd, make sure you got your cameras
I got this on lock like chain gangs and cotton✦ planters
If the question✦ is skills, Rok’s the answer,✦ remedy✦
Radiate✦ like chemotherapy to stop the cancer✦
Of this bitch-rapper propaganda. Son, watch your manners
I’m putting heads to rest and tell your crew to rock pajamas, sucker✦
Showing my skill, I’ll just go for the kill. Rappers
Should be mountain climbers—they’re so over-the-hill
I’ll permeate✦ your skin. Everything I drop is toxic✦ verbally
I’ll chop kids like ejection✦ seats in helicopter cockpits
Even✦ though I’m not a known rapper,✦ I’m a microphone master✦
And half of y’all couldn’t catch wreck if it was thrown at ya
Get your bones✦ fractured, face on a milk carton✦
Play the comic,✦ bro. Your time is up like Phil Hartman
Military drill sergeant disciplining your team
I could turn a bunch of crack junkies into✦ marines✦
It’s been in my genes✦ to be a lyrical skill machine✦
Lights, camera,✦ action,✦ but fuck the silver✦ screen
[Verse 5: Ocean]
We saw her at
The same time. You mad ‘cause I respond faster✦
She’s feeling✦ me, so you’s a nonfactor
You think it’s hot now? Wait until✦ it’s all mastered
I’ve got DJs waiting just to jump up on lackers
I’ll squeeze trash emcees✦ until✦ my palm fractures
The pain made me go and get a garbage compacter
[?] and I get together. We build like contractors✦
The joy that it brings you that is way beyond laughter
We do the science, work the angles✦ like protractors✦
I try to feel these other✦ rap cats, but they’re all actors✦
I hope they’re not posing✦ for me, poor bastards
Running around,✦ Tree-Top-clueless with no tactics
I’m trying to figure✦ out ways for us to blow faster✦
Without the cocaine,✦ the same old game
So y’all are here, losing✦ y’all heads like Ichabod Crane
So I ain’t leaving until✦ y’all sick of my name
I got scientists out here, picking✦ my brain
My mind’s, in time, more powerful than my frame
Ten to one, you’ll always✦ see with a fly dame
Y’all motherfuckers ain’t feeling✦ my pain
One
Technical Breakdown
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Delivery / Breath Control0.0
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Production
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