Текст песни A Trip out of Town (Busta Rhymes) с переводом

I can’t wait to make my trip outta town, son

We gon' do it, son

All them bitches, twistin' that tower, word

Ayo, ayo, here’s y’all niggas tickets, man

The bus leavin' right now

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 or somethin', know what I mean?

When y’all get there, hit the terminal, y’all gon' meet my man Ty gon' pick

y’all up, know what I’m sayin'?

Take y’all out 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?

One love, man

Mon, baby

Okay

Get up with you, man

Call me, call me

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 want em to flip

I told my nigga get the dough and keep the blau 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 wit

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

On the strength, son slid until you 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 collapsible, stashable 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

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

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' five G’s pay

For trips that last for only 2−3 day

How these Guyanese niggas be eatin' pasta but they love zucchini

Rockin valor tennis suits by Sergio Tecchini

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

Rockin baseball fitters 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 bubbling 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

«Ayo why don’t you tell that crackhead to close the fuckin door

And shut the fuck up»

«Yeah man and clean the motherfucking spot up, smell like…»

«Break the fuckin breakdown in the working city… yo go get the plates

And the gym star»

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

«Fuck this shit»

Yeah, see how we blowin' pa

The lookout 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 will catch the most brutal beatin'

The whole town, see we now own it

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

We stackin' cheddar now and shit is all clear

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

We love to floss and the feeling of pushing chrome shit

But in the grand scheme these niggas’ll 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 Husid

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’s 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

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

Not a problem so immediately reach for the john

Right away the gun, bust straight lifted a nigga

How we moved his organs with kickback, shifted a nigga

Wild shots fire, everybody scatter like rats

Leavin nothing but gunpowder and a trail of smoke in these gats

Now we got this faggot nigga blood on our hands

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

Shit was hot but we was nowhere near ready to fall

My son said he shot, but he wasn’t bleeding at all

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

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

Suddenly my nigga fell to the floor

And said his legs feel like them shits ain’t got no feelins no more

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

The shit was all over as soon as the director said cut

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’ll be a box office smash motherfuckers

THE END