"Against All Odds" lyrics

[Baby Sham:]
Uh-huh, uh-huh

[Baby Sham {Rampage}:]
Ayo, pause your pencils as hollow tips get in you
Box cutter to slice your face, you rhymes is natural (Yeah)
Hold two lives and four wives up in the crack capsule
Flipmode, cruddy styles has been past you
Rush pass (Uh), you couldn't touch cash (Yeah)
If it was under your nose like a moustache, nigga, you butt ass (Uh)
Show your whole cheek {Yeah}, slugs with no heat {Uh}
Diamonds that don't break {Yeah}, you thugs is so sweet

[Rampage:]
I float so much (Uh) I get seasick (Uh)
Flipmode is the Squad who I be's with (Uh), who I get pledged with
And push German V's with (Uh)
Rampage (Yeah), I'm psychic, I can see shit
'Til the next millennium you not gon' be shit (Uh, yeah)
Scratch your name off the list (Uh), cut your wrist (Uh)
You know the issue (Uh), I'm official
When you die, none of yo' niggas is really gon' miss you (Miss you, miss you...)

[Busta Rhymes {Lord Have Mercy} (Rah Digga):]
Flipmode Squad! {Here to drop bombs}
Against all odds! {Still remain gods}
Grip your arms! {We always come hard}
The world is ours! {Call a National Guard}
(Here we go)

[Rah Digga {Spliff Star}:]
Any bitch that rhyme wanna flex, she ass (Yeah)
I'm stomping all things like I'm plexiglass (Yeah)
Niggas make way like when they hear sirens (Uh)
Treat you like parking too close to fire hydrants (C'mon)
All up in the board, kickin' back long islands
Get your wig split, first solid defiance
Rah, Earth and sun {Uh} in this imperial alliance {Uh} (Yeah)
You do the science {Yo}

[Spliff Star:]
I'm getting money shitting, turn intruders into vixens (So what?)
Fall off beeper, uh-uh, niggas stay gettin' (Yeah)
Dutty nigga for life, that's how Spliff's living (Uh)
Throwing niggas in caskets tired of a yellow ribbons
I buck my gun if you touch my ones (So what?)
Rather Jamaican than belly boy make you people for fun (Uh)
Fat Man's Son, street-educated
The colonel of ghetto jurors, still thug-related (Huh)

[Busta Rhymes {Lord Have Mercy}:]
Flipmode Squad! {Here to drop bombs}
Against all odds! {Still remain gods}
Grip your arms! {We always come hard}
The world is ours! {Call a National Guard}
{Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah}

[Lord Have Mercy:]
We enemies of three strike felony laws
Gorilla dickin', K-Y jelly for whores
Lap dances trap grands without laws
My baby moms, three eighty firearms that bust with loud force (Rawr)
The ghetto with us, that bang Makaveli in trucks
That whatever the fuck to give a cheddar in chunks
Fugazi chains, fake thugs with lazy aid
Track marks, rap stars and a raid of aids

[Busta Rhymes:]
Yo, yo
What you want from us, (Hah) now there's a lot more of us
Stay toting under my given flavor from Nauticas (Hah)
Destroy every arch-rival or any challenger (Hah!)
Make you remember this day, nigga, mark it on your calendar (Hah!)
I'm showing you somethin', you ain't saying nothin' (Hah!)
My niggas make noise like a bunch of volcanoes eruptin' (Hah!)
None of y'all niggas really want a war!
The type of nigga to crash my plane in your building in the name of Allah!

[Busta Rhymes {Lord Have Mercy}:]
Flipmode Squad! {Here to drop bombs}
Against all odds! {Still remain gods}
Grip your arms! {We always come hard}
The world is ours! {Call a National Guard}

[Mother:]
I thought I told you a thousand times, stop listening to that shit!

[Son:]
Aw, come on, mom, that's Busta Rhymes!

[Father:]
Don't talk back to your mother!

[Mother:]
Gang members are the only ones that listen to that crap!

[Son:]
What are you talkin' about, everybody listens to him, his shit is dope!

[Father:]
Wait a minute. Did you say 'dope'? Hang on a second. I knew it! It says right here, "'Dope' is slang for 'marijuana'."

[Mother:]
What are you gonna do next, eat crack?

[Son:]
Eat crack?! Hah, mom, you don't even know what that means! Ha-ha...

[Father:]
You kids today, with all this bullshit...

[Mother:]
You're gonna give me a heart attack! Do your homework, goddammit!

[Son:]
Aw, mom, where you been? I graduated two years ago!

[Father:]
I'm gonna give you a rap in the mouth!

[Mother:]
If you insist on listening to black music, I have Sammy Davis Jr. records downstairs!

[Son:]
Sammy Davis Jr.? That shit is wack

[Father:]
As long as you're livin' under my roof, you're gonna do things my way, you little son of a bitch!

[Son:]
Okay, look. Ju-just listen to one of Busta Rhymes' songs. Trust me, you'll like it! Just listen, okay!

[Father:]
I'm all ears...

[Son:]
It's, it's about this street bitch who does some scandalous-ass shit, but this dude, he, he still wants to mess with her! Here, just listen

[Mother:]
Okay, but this better be good, goddammit!

[Son:]
Listen...