Live Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one Representing BK to the Gats I pull it, ducking when Big be bucking Chickenheads be in my bathroom fucking It ain't nothing, they know Big be With the mac in the Ac' door Damagin MC's, oxygen they can't Mad tricks up the sleeve, wear so my dick can breathe Breeze through in the 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 have to, you see I a lot Your life is played out like Kwame, and them fucking polka 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 need sleeping Big keep creeping Bullets heat-seeking, need treating Dumb need teaching Lesson A - don't fuck 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 dimmer Biggie's hallway My forte Caucasians to say He sounds demented, car scented If I said it, I it my tongue for no-one Call me evil, or
Buck shots out the sun of Lexus Coupes no witnesses, what you think this is? Ain't no amateurs here, I and tear MC's fear me, too near not to hear me Clearly, I'm the beam dream One thousand of uncut to the gut It fucked up, the way I touched up the grill Trying to play gorilla, you ain't no killer The gat's by your liver, upper lip quiver Get ready to die, God I said hi And throw down some ice, for the MC know the steelo, unbelievable