Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the one BK to the fullest Gats I pull it, bastards ducking Big be bucking Chickenheads be clucking in my bathroom It ain't nothing, they Big be handling the mac in the Ac' door paneling Damagin MC's, oxygen they breathe Mad tricks up the sleeve, boxers so my dick can breathe Breeze through in the by my side, lyrical high And those that my clutches get put on crutches Get smoked like dutches the master Hate to blast you, but I to, you see I smoke a lot life is played out like Kwame, and them fucking polka dots Who rock the Biggie You how the weed go, unbelievable
B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G Get it? known as the bon appetit Rappers can't sleep sleeping Big keep creeping heat-seeking, casualties need treating Dumb need teaching Lesson A - don't fuck with B-I, that Oh I, thought he was wack. Oh 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 down Biggie's My causes Caucasians to say He sounds demented, car weed If I said it, I it my tongue for no-one Call me evil, or
shots out the sun roof of Lexus Coupes Leave no witnesses, what you think is? no amateurs here, I damage and tear MC's fear me, they too near not to 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 no killer The gat's by your liver, upper lip quiver Get ready to die, tell God I hi And throw some ice, for the nicest MC Niggas know the steelo,