| «Well it’s the Funk Docta Spock.»
|
| «Meth-Tical.»
|
| «Biggie. |
| Biggie."(mmmhmmmmmm)
|
| Uhh. |
| uhh. |
| uhh. |
| (yo c’mon Big) uhh.
|
| Fuck that, I preach it, my nine reaches
|
| the prestigious, cats that speak this, Willie shit
|
| Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
|
| Smack ya cabbage, half-ass rappers, shouldn’t have it
|
| So I grab it, never run, the outcome
|
| is usually, a beatdown brutally, fuck who you be
|
| or where you’re from, West or East coast, squeeze toast
|
| Leave most in the blood they layin in, what, what?
|
| The rings and things you sing about, bring em out
|
| It’s hard to yell when the barrel’s in your mouth
|
| It’s more than I expected, I thought your jewels was rented
|
| but they wasn’t, so run it, cousin
|
| I could chill, the heat doesn’t
|
| Ran up in your shell about a dozen
|
| You never see bank like Frank White
|
| Your hand clutching, your chest-plate contemplate
|
| You bought to die, nigga wait, keep yo' hands high
|
| Yo. |
| yo yo
|
| I don’t brownnose out of town hoes
|
| I’m up around fo' with the crowbar to the five point oh
|
| I get bagged, I’m John Doe, suspect
|
| You ass like prime roastin, Calvin Klein clothes
|
| Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear
|
| I’m out there, I bought it with George Jetson here
|
| Your time is near, so get your body dropped off
|
| I stopped trustin niggaz since Gotti got caught
|
| It’s Bricks keep your wrist covered, or piss colored
|
| By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris brother
|
| I.C.U., my sheisty crew, like ice me too
|
| I break your legs, leave your eyes slightly blue
|
| The Doc was born with a grenade palm
|
| I’m concurrent in your hood like a, teenage mom
|
| Yo Biggie (what? what?) She havin my bay-bayy
|
| If I pull out the A.K., keep your hands high
|
| «This rule is so underrated."→
|
| «Actin as if it can’t happen, you’re frontin"→
|
| «Ain't no other kings in this rap thing."→
|
| «Biggie, a motherfuckin rap phenomenon"→
|
| Uhh, uhh
|
| I got a new mouth to feed, I’m due South with keys
|
| Y’all pick seeds out y’all weed, I watch cowards bleed
|
| Motherfucker please, it’s my block with my rocks
|
| Fuck that hip-hop, them one-two's, and you don’t stops
|
| Me and my nigga Lance, took Kim and Cee’s advance
|
| Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants
|
| from Branson, now we lampin, twelve room mansion
|
| Bitches get naked off «Get Money», «Player's Anthem»
|
| Don’t forget, «One More Chance"and, my other hits, other shit
|
| niggaz spit be counterfeit, robbery come actually
|
| in and out like fuckin rapidly, pass the gat to me
|
| Make his chest rest, where his back should be, talkin blasphemy
|
| Blastin me, your family, rest in coffins often
|
| Frank Wizzard, fuck you soft or fragilla
|
| Play hard like Reggie Miller, rapper, slash dope dealer
|
| slash Gorilla, slash illest turned killer
|
| Now now
|
| Don’t approach me with that rah rah shit, you out of pocket
|
| I take these adolescents back to Spofford
|
| Mentally my energy, is like a figure eight, on it’s side
|
| that’s infinity -- too many sick niggaz, nickel nines;
|
| bring the remedy -- when you play the field, what’s the penalty
|
| Unnecessary roughness, career endin injuries for suckers
|
| Stuck on stupid, shoot em with a dart like Cupid
|
| until they got love for my music
|
| Star Wars I’m Han Solo, with three egoes
|
| and three charges, I got to «See-three-P.O.'s»
|
| This is whoop-yo'-ass-day, the sequel
|
| Eyeball blower with no equal, niggaz swingin swords in the WAR
|
| that’s my people, sho' nuff, befo' I roll up
|
| This is a hold up, hands high, reach for the sky
|
| I rep S.I., the unpretty, word to Left Eye
|
| New York Shitty, put they weight on it
|
| And who better for the job than Biggie? |
| The Notorious
|
| Jeee-zus, «Unbelievable"rhyme that reaches
|
| and touch individual, small frame buck and change
|
| MC, What’s-Your-Name, tuck your chain
|
| All about the fortune, fuck the fame, labels still extortin
|
| Kick me when I’m down, but I’m up again, scorchin
|
| Hot -- forcin my way up in the ??
|
| to kill the bullshit like a matador
|
| Keep your hands high (what?) |