SPAZZZ - Busta Rhymes & J Dilla: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

SPAZZZ

Busta Rhymes & J Dilla

6,856Hip-Hop/Rap2026

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Past 7 Days

SPAZZZ was discovered most frequently at around 35 seconds into the song during the past week

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Lyrics

[Intro]

Yeah, yeah, y-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah

Yeah, yeah, y-y-y-y-yeah-yeah-yeah, yeah (Let's start it off with my man Dilla)

Yeah, yeah, y-y-y-yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah (Go)

[Verse 1]

Blunderin' fools that's wonderin' (Who's that?)

Bust Rhymes, reincarnatin' the boom-bap (Bitch)

Powerful blow, y'all should probably move back

Take notes, study my shit, school a new jack

Look, this what you do while I give you the new crack (Peep)

How I bang 'em and throw another loose stack

Bomb hard, you know it's the God when I spit, though

CC Sabathia how a **** pitch blow

Pop like I'm holdin' a cannon, let the bitch go

Can't box God, what you holdin' up your fist for? (Fist for)

Sharper than ever, I be on my tip-toe

Probably thinkin' shit's a superpower how my wrist glow

Mutilate and completely devour **** (Get low)

While I'm wide receivin' that bread, Ochocinco

Bitin' the beat like I was schizo

Come through, have you a seat, enjoy the best show

[Chorus]

Y'all don't want me spazz, my ****, ain't how you want it (Want it)

Y'all don't want me spazz, my ****, ain't how you want it (Want it)

Y'all don't want me spazz, my ****, ain't how you want it (Want it)

Y'all don't want me spazz, my ****, ain't how you want it (Want it)

Y'all don't want me spazz, my ****, ain't how you want it (Want it)

Y'all don't want me spazz—

[Verse 2]

Bag big-ass bitches and rope 'em, now **** call me cow rustler

Any **** frontin' and want it, I'ma satisfy the customer (Who want it?)

I got a half-priced ass whippin' for bussin' ya

Beat 'em and disassemble a **** with a muffler

Do this shit for the hustler

While I'm sippin', I'm whippin' the gas guzzler

V12 racin' down the Bruckner

I laugh at most of you **** to the point they call me chuckler

I bring it for the hood and you know I'm Black for the sufferer

I got a damn right spazzin' and actin' so obscene

Typecast when I black like Bokeem

Woodbine, you wishin' ya could find shit that I stash

Shit that be makin' a **** wan' clash

Bust ya shit with a smash and do the dash and have 'em look for the chalk

I body shit, then I'm leavin' the street to talk and I'm plantin' my pitchfork

And then I rep it, connect it, and then bruise **** that study my next chess moves

You took a wrong turn on this avenue (Uh-huh)

Y'all know that y'all ain't got a cage for this animal (Uh-huh)

When I'm in the buildin', **** know how to act

Get it up, get it up, get it up, up (Bang on 'em)

Act sick (Come on), backflip (Come on)

You know the God be back in the cockpit (Come on)

Money flippin' like we on the crack strip (Come on)

See, we ain't playin'

Load the million, we keep 'em prayin', watch me fuck it up again

[Verse 3]

Yo, yo, I hit 'em slow like a bag of the dro

A mack with the glow, black in my clothes (Yeah)

All of a sudden, they buzzin', I'm what you never heard of

I'm everything that they wasn't, let me expose it further

Future high-tech, I di-tect and dissect **** and ride jets

And switch 'em out and then I think about how my mind gets (Righteous)

Then I use a cloud to wipe my ass while I'm flyin', diapers

'Til I split multiple cells in the brain when I spit in ciphers

And I got the game locked more than categorized lifers

Better clarify your vision and clear the screen with the wipers

I'm nicer, when I switch a lane like I'm whippin' a Viper

The type to wrestle up bread like I'm Rowdy Roddy Piper

You the type to kiss a bitch who give me head and wanna wife her

Roll up, all of a sudden (Hold up), there's no competin'

But it amaze me the type of shit **** dream when they be sleepin'

Reluctantly I claim and charter the plane for the weekend

While I watch 'em wake up to unfathomable ass beatings

Look, look, turn the lights off

I might wipe off the perspiration

My mic's off?

Well, fuck it, I'ma keep it goin', bitch, 'til my track gone

Kev Brown, do me a favor, turn my mic back on

Jimmy crack corn, just when you thought you laid the bomb down, homie

You was dreamin', better calm down, homie (Down—)

Written by: Christopher Cross, James Dewitt Yancey, K. Brown, M. Robinson, P Gage, Paul Korda, T. Smith

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