Do It to Me

Charlie Hust', Busta Bust', let's do it

[Busta] Hehehehe, Flipmode, Sic-Wid-It

You know what's best for you, you better get widdit

I heard him talkin, but then he walkin, now tell me why

they never been incarcerated in a correctional facility

for doin this kinda street chemistry (hell yea)

I'm an original rapper, retrospected by plenty, hated by people

Me, 40, we took it back as street soldier

You got my back I got your shoulder

Peas and toes, tryin to make it, it's all oh's

Impossible is a hit never get caught diggin in my nose

Ex d-boy used to be a big time neighborhood rock star

although I never owned a gui-tar

I-uh-I'm lyrically inclined with my start stutter scrilla

type delivery, 40 and Busta Rhymes, was drinkin

and smockin hickory, on the porch one time

When I came up with this line: I was perkin

off of some of that Carlos Rossi wine -- whatcha playa patnah got

Flows, like a latina female orgasm

Hoes, be yellin and screamin causin contractions at my

shows, they take off they clothes and throw they pantyhose on stage

Any appliable age from dookie braids to suki braids, deal widdit

Do it to me baby, do it to meeeee!

(Do it to me baby, do it to me baby)

Just do anything you want to do to meeeee!

(We go do it, do it, do it)

Do it to me baby, do it to meeeee!

(Do it to me baby, do it to me baby)

(We go do it, do it, do it)

Check it out yo

Do it to me I'ma do it to you

Rubber you glue, bounce off of me I stick it on you

Weather whatever you could never ever measure my pleasure

Dig in my treasure, be making your lungs cave in together

Blow smoke out my face, pick up the pace

Speed up the race, never let a hot joint go to waste

My dogs'll bark when your marksman trespass

You better use caution, your body parts might get auctioned

No need for you to keep stalkin, HELL but what you talkin

have you dusted like a zombie lookin straight Christopher Walken

Shorty tried to call me and warn me and E-40

about these other corny rappers that ain't got nuttin for me

You know they all blew it, time to move it

Blow the spot you knowin how we do it, capitalize

Upgrade to gold now we platinum-eyes

Keep my flavor holy sacred and pasteurized, WHAT!

We doin this to blow through it til you suffocate, losin your breath

til you satisfied, you know we do it to death

Ay you know we do it to keep you flippin, do it for whylin

Doin it for me to get my hustle on, do it for profilin

Do it for the love affair because I'm lovin it

When we clubbin all you hear is the live DJ rubbin it

Runnin it all into the ground, doin it for days

Do it for money, know I gotta keep my bills paid!

My reals be pokin and stickin out like nipples

The felines, be lookin at us like we some popsicles

Busta Rhyzzzimes, and Charlie Hustle, or should I say Fonzarelli

Poppin they collars and workin they star jelly

Up in the club, order the one, the party's just begun

Love, batches outnumber the fellas ten to one push come to

shove, forgot my gun, but it won't hurt fool

My music come up out the woodwork, beatch!

[Chorus w/out Busta (3X to fade)]