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Artist: Hi-Tek f/ Busta Rhymes
Album:  Hi-Teknology 2: The Chip
Song:   March
Typed by: 

[Intro: Busta Rhymes]
Aiyyo Hi-Tek, I think we got some shit 
to smack they ass around with this trip nigga
Here we go! Yeah, c'mon, yeah, let's go
I-I think it's long overdue that we give it to niggaz in a new way
Yeah! Yeah (march) c'mon
Yeah (march) let's go
Nah I think this shit is feelin so good we just gon' keep it goin
Stay wit me! You better march (down here)
All my niggaz march (down here)
C'mon, march (down here)
I like how this shit is goin, check it, aiyyo

[Busta Rhymes]
Y'all niggaz know what's up, what the fuck, aiyyo
The God is back, muh'fucker get low
Creep on a nigga and back the heat slow
Shame that we caught you on the back street though
Peep though, better chill when I'm tryin to speak yo
Chop a nigga's shit until they white meat show
Hook right, never been this right befo'
Light speed, hop up in the white G-fo'
Huh! It's like shootin a free throw
When you see the bullet flyin up out of my peephole
Stack that cake, nigga bundle up the dough
Got a whole lot of gats around in my humble abode
Got a whole lot of crack for your corner the drug sto'
Better know how to act's what I carry the toast fo'
When you roll through the hood, you better run it round here
Where the heater will spark, because we march (down here)

When we on the strip you know we march (down here)
You gettin that money you better march (down here)
If you a soldier nigga march down here
And if you walk the Crip, you better march (down here)
If you wiggle your back you better march (down here)
Do the damn step bitch, march (down here)
We do it for the hood when we march (down here)
Rep it for the block, nigga march

[Busta Rhymes]
Huh! I've got a whole shitload
You know what it is, muh'fucker (FLIPMODE!)
Don't ask me shit, why? (When?) What? (How?)
The plan was sick, we on Aftermath now!
Got money to get, 'fore a nigga (sign out)
My nigga that's with me, muh'fucker (ride out)
You know you a puss, I think you better (hide out)
Bitches in the club, I see they wanna (whyle out)
Hmm, now I see your whole scheme
We wreck the ship, while you niggaz blow steam
Blow somethin and create a whole new scene
It don't even matter, murk somethin, knahmean?
Police roamin in the back of the club
Act like we ain't got a gat in the club
You niggaz better have respect {"around here"}
'Fore the eagle'll spark, that's how we march!


[Busta Rhymes]
Now throw your right arm straight out to the front like this
Act like it's on the steering wheel
Act like it's on the steering wheel
Act like it's on the steering wheel
Make your left arm sit up on that car window
Wrist so froze it looks, unreal
Wrist so froze it looks, unreal
I got a old school nickname, Chilly Chill

Check it - a lot of you niggaz, see your shit outdated
(You ain't know?) Franchise player just got traded
Mad ice like a nigga just ice skated
Must blow, only if the 'dro, high graded
(March) up on the strip to my niggaz migrated
Dry state, more they kinda dehydrated
Lion's Gate money movin deals overrated
Accordin to my mother friends I shoulda never made it
(March) all my niggaz just (march) here we go
Take shit from a nigga like repo
Police look up in my little keyhole
Worried about, all the shit we sold
Old news nigga, shit about a week old
(March) in the name of the paper we fold
Whatever you want, you niggaz weak round here
We back the john, and cock heat (down here)