Aw shit. You done fucked up now, man. You done put two of the best rappers in the same motherfucking place at the same motherfucking time? You gon' feel this. Break out the champagne glasses and the big red drugs. We gon' take advantage of all whack-ass rappers, man. Ayo, Wax. Tell them how you get busy. Ayo, I get busy like the Panama Canal Waterway overflowers on Mother's Day — no other way That I know but to stay at the workbench Grinding, laboratory filled with a burnt stench The wordsmith with his pen in his hand He gon' earn this if he gotta live in his van Picture Dr. Manhattan on angel dust Treating rappers like graham crackers and sandcastles — I'll break them up Wake them up out of the slumber the game's put them in Have them take a number and wait 'til we make it good again Turn never should have been into broken margarita glass rims Salty old has-beens and trash bins Ask ten people what's the key to rap I guarantee they say Prince E or Wax So I'll leave them flat. This ain't a Wheezy track It's an atom bomb, camouflage — all you see is green and black Wax. It's a wrap Let me get busy. Let me get busy I'm tired of cats who want credit If your rap's sick, I can't tell it Like fat chicks who say they pregnant You got rhymes — but mine better Been down in '97, I would know I got a spot in my wine cellar It's true, I've been down there That shit is fucking weird He got Pac's head on the wall like it's a fucking deer Up in here, whack rappers duck in fear What's a little buck of rules to some bona fide buccaneers Buccaneers with rusty rifles and hunting gear Fucking grimy — we ain't cut our beards in a couple years When I wanna chill, all I gotta do is grab my lucky pills Where the fuck I put them? I think they're under here My mother fears that I'm losing my mind Cause I keep a couple ears from you losers that rhyme It's time to rhyme a neck and wear them to the Thanksgiving supper And ice grill my uncle like, "You're next, motherfucker" Let me get busy. Let me get busy Lockla busy. Lockla busy. Lockla busy Let me get busy. Let me get busy You see, me and Prince EA We are the active ingredients in the recipe for disaster Immediate catastrophe for MCs gonna be bastards We be doing deeds dastardly — come on You see us ballast It's automatic habit with me and Wax on these tracks Capturing passion of real rap and assassins We've been tracking the data and extrapolating patterns to take the planet Cause we the fucking best in the name of Khaled You can't hack it cause you rap shitty, bro You gonna make me snap if I hear that trash anymore And if I'm strapped with the chrome, I'm popping it off You getting shot in your car like a Wax video So when they asked me to flow on the BET or Rap City show I got into my car, crashed into the door Then I drove down the basement steps Parked the whip in the booth Stood in the hood and started spitting the truth Needless to say, they didn't have me back on the show When they finally cleaned up the mess from the whole wreckage incident, they didn't put Z on there. And he brought a bunch of tigers with him, boy, And lions. They ate the whole camera crew up. Just like we eat these rappers, son. Let me get busy. Let me get busy Let me get busy. Let me get busy Let me get busy. Let me get busy