[Part 1: Skit – Man 1 & Man 2]

'Sup

Can't wait to make my trip outta town, son

Serious right now...

Serious, baby, we gon' do it, son

All them bitches, twistin' that tower, word

Tryna get this paper...

[Announcer]

Attention, all passengers – 

This is the last call of the bus leaving to Norfolk, Virginia

Arriving in 10 minutes, leaving from Gate G13

That's gate G13, to Norfolk, Virginia

[Spliff Star & various men]

Ayo, ayo, here's y'all niggas' tickets, man (Aight)

Bus leavin' right now (No doubt)

Ayo, listen to me, man – 

When y'all get on the bus, y'all niggas don't even sit together

Act like y'all don't know each other

Like you're undercover on the motherfuckin' bus (Yeah)

Or somethin', know what I mean? (No doubt)

When y'all get there, an' all –

Fucker, y'all gon' hit the terminal, kna'imean

My nigga Ty gon' pick y'all up, know what I'm sayin'?

Take y'all to this hustlin' spot we got out there

Newton Park, out on Norfolk, you know what I mean?

(Most def', most def')

Where the money is proper, the hustle is proper, you know what I mean?

(Uh-huh, straight gangsta)

Want you to go out there, y'all handle your business, man, you know what I'm sayin'?

(Alright)

Straight like that, aight?

(No doubt, baby)

One love, man

(Peace)

[Man 1, Man 2, (Busta Rhymes)]

One, baby

(Okay)

Get up with you, man

I'll miss you, get out

(Call me, call me)

[Part 2: A Trip Out of Town]

[Verse 1]

Yo, it all began like... bust it

My nigga City 'bout to bounce on a trip

We met some niggas with a lot of things they wanted to flip

I told my nigga, "Get the dough and keep the blaow on your hip

Travel safe, you know that I'ma hold it down on the strip"

"Good lookin'" "Word to mother, son, I give you my whip

But when I get back, I'ma bounce straight to your crib"

On the strength, son slid and took it to the Greyhound

Wit' a burner in the knapsack, headed straight outta town

Now, three days pass, I'm still on the strip

Doin' hand-to-hand with twelve capsule, stash-able clips

With little magnets on the side of the clips, we planted like a project

When police come, we stick the clips in any metal object

("Hey, freeze! Don't move! What you doin' up out here?")

Throwin' a nigga on the walls and try to search me down

("Show me some ID")

I laugh, knowin' that my stash'll never be found

Well, anyway, on the third day, son came straight to the strip

Wit' a new floss and shiny shoes on the whip

My nigga hit me with the latest, greatest

He told me, "Get inside the whip," so I can know just what the up-to-date is

He said he fuckin' wit' some Guyanese niggas, how ill them niggas is

What kind of dough they get, and how they handle they biz

How they connect with Jamaician niggas who speak American

And how they changed from medallions to iced-out pelicans

And how they stay wit' four pounders

And speak American to try to blend in

Like they ain't obvious out-of-towners

Okay, I've never heard of workers gettin' 5 G's pay

For trips that last for only 2-3 day

How his Guyanese niggas be eatin' pasta, but they love zucchini

Rockin' valour tennis suits by Sergio Tacchini

Them type of cats that call you, because you can't call 'em

Rockin' baseball fitteds with wild animal skins on 'em

How they rock silks and tailor-made pants

And get a matching Bally shoe for the silk to step in the dance

Washrags hangin' from every one of our back pockets

From every fine wine to champagne, them niggas'll straight cop it

And set up shops in them neighborhoods that was residential

Rock laced whips, while the workers'll floss the latest rentals

How they fuck with arrogant bitches who act pussy

And love to hustle wit' niggas and stash coke up in they pussy

After all of that, I wanted ones

The way my nigga was talkin', so next trip I went to bounce with son

So now we out of town with Guyanese cats

Up in they gates bubblin' packages and layin' wit' gats

Shit was slow until the main fiend was offed

Just like a thief in the night

And spread the word that we was back with the white

[Interlude: Busta Rhymes & various men]

Ayo, why don't you tell that crackhead to close the fuckin' door

And shut the fuck up?

Yeah, man, and clean the motherfuckin' spot up, smell like... (Shit, shit)

Break the fuckin' breakdown in the work

And, City, yo – go get the plates and the Gemstar

Yo, light that up, lemme hit that, gimme a light, yeah, man, cut that

Fuck this shit

[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes, ongoing background story]

Yeah, see how we blowin', pa?

The look-out niggas holdin' fort like they was watchtowers

Buggin' on how we went through a half a brick every couple of hours

So on, and so on – shit is good and we eatin'

First nigga to short a package'll catch the most brutal beatin'

The whole town see we now own it

Carryin' on and blemishin' all in the hearts of the best moments

We stackin' cheddar now and shit is all clear

That we was growin' as workin' niggas wit' aspiring ideas

We love to floss and the feelin' of pushin' chrome shit

But in the grand scheme, these niggas'd love to have they own shit

Now these niggas was really ready to swell up

We decided to separate from them niggas and make our shit develop

Off in to the wilderness of the wicked Hassid

We set up shops and watched the games begin

So now we ballin' like a motherfucker, money was sick

Gas on the cheddar and these bitches ridin' the dick

Fuckin' everything from the local McDonald bitches with the biggest ass

To attorney bitches that'll beat a charge fast

We used to takin' niggas' custies and leave they set up on tilt

(Ayo, bring custies to me, I'ma hit you off – you over, boy, aight?)

And watch 'em angrily scheme on the shit that we built

Ain't it funny how shit transpire? In fact

Not too long after our ride we took, the winner's stash house was at

Some niggas tried to run a jook with things in they palm

(With issues again! Shit can't happen!)

Not a problem, so immediately reach for the John

(Feelin' this, motherfuck, you mean?)

Right away, the gun bust, straight lifted a nigga

How we moved his organs with kickback – shifted a nigga

(Ah, what? Y'all niggas wanna play? What! What!)

Wild shots fire, everybody scatter like rats

Leavin' nothing but gun powder and a trail of smoke in these gats

Now we got this faggot nigga blood on our hands (Yeah)

But fuck it, determined to fulfill the best of these plans

(Fuck you mean, we doin'?)

Shit was hot, but we was nowhere near ready to fall

My son said he shot, but he wasn't bleedin' at all

(Alright, son? C'mon)

Word, I started buggin' when my nigga said he feel cold

Then I looked up on the right side of his shirt and found a little hole

So as we continue to radically blaze the fifth

Flame the iron, not giving a fuck, y'all niggas wanna rip?

Well, we deaded three out of the four niggas who tried to jook

One nigga slid and think he got off the hook (Yeah)

Now let me find out one out of them three niggas we bodied

Was one of them Guyanese niggas who buy drinks up for the party

He was the nigga to flood the table with champagnes

Stupid motherfucker tried to front, we had to leak his brain

(Fuckers!)

Suddenly my nigga fell to the floor

And said his legs feel like them shits ain't got no feelings no more

More the actin' up, the more the shit I felt in my gut

(Get up)

The shit was all over as soon as the director said, "Cut!"

[Outro]

That's a wrap! Good actin', motherfuckers, good actin'

That's the shit I'm talkin' about

Y'all ready to watch the playback?

Fuck around, that shit be a box office smash, motherfuckers

Ehehe...

{*applause*}