Live Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one Representing BK to the Gats I pull it, bastards ducking when Big be Chickenheads be clucking in my bathroom It ain't nothing, they know Big be With the mac in the Ac' paneling Damagin MC's, oxygen they can't Mad tricks up the sleeve, boxers so my dick can breathe through in the Q-45 by my side, lyrical high And those that rushes my get put on crutches Get like dutches from the master to blast you, but I have to, you see I smoke a lot Your 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 sleep need sleeping Big keep creeping Bullets heat-seeking, casualties treating rappers 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 hundred and fifty-seven ways To saute, I'm the winner all day Lights get down Biggie's hallway My causes Caucasians to say He sounds demented, car weed If I it, I meant it my tongue for no-one Call me evil, or
Buck shots out the sun roof of Lexus 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 grams of 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, your upper lip Get ready to die, tell God I hi And throw down some ice, for the MC Niggas the steelo, unbelievable