Talkin’ sh*t lyrics

[Intro: Fr Amde Hamilton]
"I'll stop calling you n*ggers
When you start actin' like black men
My fellow poets tell me not to write poems
Talkin' bad about black folk
But I ain't mad at whitey
I'm mad at you, ya low down n*ggas
Crossing out each other constantly
Talkin' about brotha this and whitey that
You low down lames, it takes two to play a game!
Y'all claim to be so hip
And all that sh*t playin' tough
But the n*ggas ain't really rough
Cream puffs is a better word than tough!
Y'all better get hip and come off this trip
Wit' y'all under-killin' asses!

[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
"Coming through! So over, you can't really see
Why you askin' me? When you back to, reality"

[Verse: Madlib & Quasimoto]
I keep it real, you droppin' sh*t like it's sloppy
(Meanwhile) My sh*t open you up like an autopsy
I never throw my sh*t upon the floppy
Unless I'm in a battle with some n*ggas tryna top me
(n*ggas get frustrated?) n*ggas try, but never stop me (How you do?)
I be straight playin' the humble way, y'all n*ggas actin' c*cky
I see the fry, y'all like some could-be-jockeys
Reality check like 360 'round in circles
Everything that comes around goes back around for a purpose
Like when you split the lip service (Lip service)
Y'all n*ggas need to be smacked worthless
[Chorus: Busta Rhymes]
"Talkin' sh*t? Tal— talkin' sh—
Tal— talkin' sh— tal— talkin' sh*t?
You better watch out, you'll be walkin'— talkin' sh*t?
You better watch out, you'll be walkin'— comin' through—
Comin'— comin' through— comin' through—
Com— comin' through— comin' through— so— so—
So— so— so— so— so—
Comin' through— so— comin' through! So over
You can't really see
Why you askin' me? When you back to, reality"