Luyện nghe bài hát Da B Side

B side, B side, ha it, So So Def
Bad Boy collaboration, the B.I.G. in the house
We got Da Brat in the and me
Y'all know who I be, it

I got that shit all you niggas just to ride to
Funk for your is what I provide you
So slide through your hood with me in your
Cause your way to get your groove on flomps

And I the costs to be the boss as a kid
Fucked and made some shit you can't fuck with
They thought luck did it but it didn't 'cause I'm back
with the B.I.G. and my new-found friend

Sliding in from the front, never way
Niggas wonder how I came with this of mine
Remain in your seats as I the clip into yo' hip
Brat and Smalls

Aw shit, on top of all that, I'm so, so
Flow to you motherfuckers know
an MC coming close to touch
Bitches I like to fuck, I like to bust, so

Lay on back, light up the
As we give you motherfuckers what you want
Lay on back, light up the
As we give you motherfuckers what you want

I never knew, niggas had a clue on who was the of the street
More deep than a Rover jeep, guns under the seat
And my nigga came home from work, release
Cristal in my lap, in the air

Nigga, pass that shit like you just don't
Yeah, you on my list, Biggie burns spliffs
When I'm pissed, release the Rolex your wrist
Nigga, no human being, Korean or

Be what B.I.G. be seein', I leave 'em peein'
In they draws because Biggie Smalls is far weak
Brat-tat-tat, please speak, nigga your eyes
'Cause you see the Notorious B R A T

The raw combination, the
Number one tote a gun no hesitation
with the funkdafied cutie pie
Gat by the thigh, the by her side

If you fuck with her you got to with me
And we'll be rapping at your eulogy, so

Lay on back, light up the
As we give you motherfuckers just you want
Lay on back, up the blunts
As we give you just what you want

Brat-tat-tat-tat, speak

I got the funk in my pocket, stay locked down
The nigga you know who represent platinum sounds
Now baby Biggie, I done heard Juicy
Didn't nothin' but truth in the hook B

pledging to wreck with a notorious nigga ready to die
Jump in the Benz, me a little ride
the mountain, broke a left, hit So So Def
And told the nigga JD I was the one, the rest

We funkdafied, it live
Robin Leach teach a nigga how to really
Whether it be track or blunt, ain't no to front
Got what you need and I take everything you ever

Nigga, we mass, his pimpin' ass
His is full of Moet, the Rolex is bar-bayed
Parkade, B to the R A T
off swoll on chrome 17

Lay on back, up the blunts
As we give you motherfuckers what you want
Lay on back, up the blunts
As we you motherfuckers just what you want

Lay back, listen to the B side, slide,
Do you want, get out your lighters
We be the rhyme writers, starters from the of College Park
New York, Chicago, wherever you go