Live Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one BK to the fullest Gats I pull it, bastards when Big be bucking Chickenheads be clucking in my bathroom It nothing, they know Big be handling the mac in the Ac' door paneling Damagin MC's, oxygen they can't Mad tricks up the sleeve, boxers so my dick can breathe Breeze in the Q-45 by my side, lyrical high And those that rushes my get put on crutches Get smoked like dutches the master to blast you, but I have to, you see I smoke a lot Your life is played out like Kwame, and them polka dots Who rock the Biggie You how the weed go, unbelievable
B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G Get it? Also as the bon appetit Rappers can't sleep sleeping Big keep creeping Bullets heat-seeking, casualties treating rappers need teaching Lesson A - don't fuck B-I, that's that Oh I, he was wack. Oh come come now Why y'all so dumb now - me or be hunted I got three and fifty-seven ways To saute, I'm the winner all day Lights get dimmer Biggie's hallway My forte Caucasians to say He sounds demented, car scented If I it, I meant it Bite my tongue for Call me evil, or
Buck out the sun roof of Lexus Coupes Leave no witnesses, you think this is? Ain't no amateurs here, I damage and fear me, they too near not to hear me Clearly, I'm the triple dream One thousand of uncut to the gut It seems up, the way I touched up the grill Trying to play gorilla, when you ain't no The gat's by liver, your upper lip quiver Get to die, tell God I said hi And throw down ice, for the nicest MC know the steelo, unbelievable