Til We Die Lyrics - Year Of The Dragon - Busta Rhymes

I got whatever I signed 

You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on 

Just have to have your mouth wide 

If you know that you plan on coming on 

On for what you. 

And if you think we're gonna stop 

That's just absurd 

My little finger's in the sky 

Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die 

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Yea, I got 'em yellin' "Oh God, Lord" 

Presence fresh, your neck rise, sharp Tom Ford 

Fuck G4s, I charter private Concords 

And she through the sky like missiles when they dodge ball 

Toast them bottles with the booze 

Smell and stink like old money buried in the king's tomb 

When you think we smell funny, certain niggas wanna watch 'em 

When it comes to money I'm a nose fragrance, watch the flower blossom 

When it comes to bread, y'all niggas know it's me 

I articulate beautiful like a poetry 

Hoes bring me that paper just like they all in 3's 

Chip 'em a revenue, God bless my rosaries 

Listen, that's why your witness and your highness 

We're celebratin' success and sippin' on the finest 

Most you motherfuckers need to learn to stand behind us 

When we come and dismantle you niggas quick and leave you spineless 

But that's for you to dodge us 

Photos 

I got whatever I signed 

You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on 

Just have to have your mouth wide 

If you know that you plan on coming on 

On for what you. 

And if you think we're gonna stop 

That's just absurd 

My little finger's in the sky 

Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die 

She see me stackin' cheese in my saggy sheets 

Silver and Sela, smokin' lavender leaf 

Yellow Jesus piece, I still feed the streets 

I'm getting score, that Ferrari seats 

Riders at the top, get arrogant on 'em 

Set a bottle off, you can ride if you wanna 

My money mandatory, slippy what deposits look 

Money green, Maserati with a body kit 

Dead presidents, got my name on the blim 

Fast in the residence based on a tip 

Playin innocent, the state attorney want a grip 

I've got enough, get with puff, I could make a flip 

Fuck the charge down for me to top the Forbes list 

I'm a fat boy, I but 'em on that poor shit 

You see that money? I'm touchin' mine 

It's Rosay, Trey Songz, Busta Rhymes 

I got whatever I signed 

You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on 

Just have to have your mouth wide 

If you know that you plan on coming on 

On for what you. 

And if you think we're gonna stop 

That's just absurd 

My little finger's in the sky 

Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die 

Hand on my heart while giving thanks and continued bustin' these bottles open 

Passin' the time, securin' lanes, gurkin' forgot smokin' 

Controllin' every room when I enter there start toastin' 

Undecided on what to drive, think the garage is open 

As we do the impossible 

It seems successfully manifestin' a thought and livin' out the dream 

Leave an unforgettable mark of mud 

I be in it like adding a chapter to the Bible with my blood, listen 

Every day is like a weekend 

Like we never give a fuck, celebratin' for no reason 

A convoy full of trucks, ain't no question, we all eatin' 

Then it's silence when I talk like I'm hearin' the Lord speakin' now 

As they complain about my ways 

Cuz I'll be grindin', never sleepin' just be ballin' on for days 

Be fuckin' every model, every weed in out the strays 

And then I'm bouncin' that Bugatti slowly totin' on the haze 

Then we pass this shit to Trey 

I got whatever I signed 

You wanna hop in, bitch comin' on 

Just have to have your mouth wide 

If you know that you plan on coming on 

On for what you. 

And if you think we're gonna stop 

That's just absurd 

My little finger's in the sky 

Screamin' fuck a hater til the day a nigga die