Live Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one BK to the fullest Gats I pull it, ducking when Big be bucking Chickenheads be clucking in my fucking It ain't nothing, they know Big be the mac in the Ac' door paneling Damagin MC's, they can't breathe Mad tricks up the sleeve, wear boxers so my dick can through in the Q-45 by my side, lyrical high And those that rushes my clutches get put on Get smoked like dutches from the 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 know how the weed go,
B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G Get it? Also known as the bon Rappers can't sleep need sleeping Big creeping Bullets heat-seeking, need treating rappers need teaching Lesson A - don't with B-I, that's 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 simmer saute, I'm the all day Lights get down Biggie's hallway My forte Caucasians to say He sounds demented, car scented If I it, I meant it Bite my for no-one me evil, or unbelievable
Buck out the sun roof of Lexus Coupes Leave no witnesses, what you think is? Ain't no amateurs here, I damage and fear me, they too near not to hear me Clearly, I'm the beam dream One thousand of uncut to the gut It seems up, the way I touched up the grill Trying to play gorilla, you ain't no killer The gat's by liver, your upper lip quiver Get ready to die, tell God I hi And throw down ice, for the nicest MC know the steelo, unbelievable