Busta Rhymes- "fire It Up" Lyrics - Wrestling

Verse 1: 

We grind ya'll 

Bounce back, open your mind ya'll 

Grind your whole ass till you twist your waistline 

Ya'll know the time 

Hey yo feel the base line 

Stack the overdrive 

Bounce, baby feel the incline 

So geniune, everytime, Busta redefine 

The wicked knew the dime 

Makin ya'll press rewind 

Hope you feelin fine 

Watch me combine and intertwine 

The bounce rock skates make you cross the foul line 

Shine a nickel nine 

On all kinds of little swine 

Stick the worst of porcupine 

If you tryin to take mine 

Yo, pick up my nigga Splif 

In the blue 5S's 

Sportin out tan, interior blue head restses 

Move, baby no time for second guesses 

Been articulate the right bounce as the flow finesses 

Yo we gettin papers spreadin love and happiness's 

Shit blazin so hot DJ's scratch the test presses 

Like make it mo hot baby *chorus comes in* 

Chorus: 

Turn it up, I wanna hear it real loud, just 

Turn it up, so we can party in the loft, baby 

Turn it up, we need to tear the roof off, so just 

Turn it up, I need to make it mo hot, baby 

(repeat first three lines, finish with 'Turn it up') 

Verse 2: 

Yo, word is bond 

Baby let's get it on 

I never say it wrong 

Yo baby girl take off your thong 

Let me put it in your spirit like the holy Kyron 

Got the mega song 

Sweet like honey chicken dijon 

Movin along 

Yo, honey body look real strong 

Watch your ass swing 

Hangin like a medallion 

Exercise baby let me see you spread on the floor 

What you askin for? 

Relax, I'm bout to give you some more 

Where the liquor store? 

Hit you with some more metaphor 

The raw, hot to def shit you never seen it before 

Hit the deck, on your mark, get set, we bout to jet 

Spark it like ingelet, chickens breakin their neck 

Yo we play to win 

Such a shame, shit is a sin 

So hot baby body heat bubble your skin 

Everytime I flow speak 

I caress the whole beach 

Just like the body guard Les straight walkin the street 

We get down 

Chorus 

Verse Three: 

Yo, come on baby just feel my heat wave 

A lot of hot ones ready for niggas that act brave 

Chill son, you better off if you behave 

Flip money while broke niggas tryin to save 

Lay low, I say so, my pesos 

Import my cheese stack by the castros 

Make clothes 

Or stay fly a chase hoes 

Equatorians soft lips and straight nose 

Makin dough 

When we rippin the paid show 

Get the money and dip, we in the Range Rove 

Now we makin grands 

We name brand 

We make plans, change plans 

Then we expand across land 

Do it properly 

Yo, I said open sesame 

The recipe, be the hot shit, it's got to be 

Yo, landscape 

We arrange a whole shape 

Rock the fly tape 

Then I continue to skyscrape 

Like blah!!!!!!!!!!! 

So hot 

Chorus