| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:22 | 
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[Puff Daddy]
Push c'mon Shorty stay push c'mon c'mon c'mon push it's almost there One more time c'mon *baby cries* c'mon push baby one more time *baby cries* Harder harder push harder Push push c'mon One more time here it goes! I see the head! Yeah c'mon! YEAH! YEAHHHH! You did it baby yeah! *Curtis Mayfield's "Super Fly" plays over this* *Sugarhill Gang's "Rappers Delight" fades in* ... the hibby, the hibby dibby hip hop and ya don't stop! Rock it out baby bubba, to the boogedy bang bang The boogey to the boogedy beat Now what you hear is not a test, I'm rappin, to the beat *voice comes in over* God damnit, what the fuck are you doin? You can't control that god damn boy? (What?) I just saw Ms. Jersey, he told me he caught the motherfuckin boy and chopped him (Get your black ass off!) You can't control the god, I don't know what the fuck to do with that boy (What the fuck do you, whatta you do?) If if you can't fuckin control him (All you fuckin do is bitch at me) Bitch, what I say, I'ma send his motherfuckin ass to a group home goddamnit, what?? I'll smack the shit outta you bitch (Take your black ass, the fuck outta here) Motherfucker, you are fuckin up (Comin in here, smellin like pile of shit, dumb motherfucker) *Sugarhill fades out, Audio Two fades in* Gizmo's cuttin, up for the Suckers that's, down with me! What nigga you want to rob them motherfuckin trains you crazy? B.I.G.: Yes, yes, motherfucker, motherfuckin right, nigga yes Nigga what the fuck nigga? We gonna get... B.I.G.: Nigga it's eighty-seven nigga, is you dead broke? Yeah nigga but, but... B.I.G.: Motherfucker is you broke motherfucker? We need to get some motherfuckin paper nigga Yeah but nigga it's a train ain't nobody robbed no motherfuckin train B.I.G.: Just listen man, your mother givin you money nigga? My moms don't give me shit nigga, it's time to get paid nigga is you wit me? *gun clicks* Motherfuck is you wit me? Yeah I'm wit you nigga c'mon B.I.G.: Alright then nigga lets make it happen then All you motherfuckers get on the fuckin floor! *blam blam* Get on the motherfuckin floor! B.I.G.: Chill, give me all your motherfuckin money And don't move nigga! B.I.G.: Give me all your motherfuckin money, I want the jewelry Give me every fuckin thing Nigga I'd shut the fuck up or I'ma blow your motherfuckin brains out! Nigga, give me your jewerly, give me your wallet B.I.G.: Fuck you bitch, get up off that shit What the fuck you holdin on to that shit for bitch? *Audio Two fades out, Snoop Dogg fades in* Open see-74, Smalls Mr. Smalls, let me walk you to the door So how does it feel leavin us? B.I.G.: c'mon man, what kind of fuckin question is that man? Tryin to get the fuck up out this joint dog Yeah, yeah, you'll be back You niggaz always are B.I.G.: Go head man, what the fuck is you hollerin about? You won't see me up in this motherfucker no more We'll see B.I.G.: I got big plans nigga, big plans, hahahahaha |
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| 2. |
| 3:58 |
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[Verse One]
Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves Gazelle shades, and corn braids Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies Shootin skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews with the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues Turn your pagers, to nineteen ninety three Niggaz is gettin smoked G, believe me Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick Cause real street niggaz ain't havin that shit Totin techs for rep, smokin blunts in the project hallways, shootin dice all day Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin shit We get hype and shit and start lifin shit So step away with your fist fight ways Motherfucker this ain't back in the days, but you don't hear me though [Verse Two] No more cocoa leave-io, one two three One two three, all of this to me, is a mystery I hear you motherfuckers talk about it But I stay seein bodies with the motherfuckin chalk around it And I'm down with the shit too For the stupid motherfuckers wanna try to use Kung-Fu Instead of a Mac-10 he tried scrappin Slugs in his back and, that's what the fucks happenin when you sleep on the street Little motherfuckers with heat, want ta leave a nigga six feet deep And we comin to the wake To make sure the cryin and commotion ain't a motherfuckin fake Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us Look at em now, they even fuckin scared of us Callin the city for help because they can't maintain Damn, shit done changed [Verse Three] If I wasn't in the rap game I'd probably have a key knee deep in the crack game Because the streets is a short stop Either you're slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jumpshot Shit, it's hard being young from the slums eatin five cent gums not knowin where your meals comin from And now the shit's gettin crazier and major Kids younger than me, they got the Sky grand Pagers Goin outta town, blowin up Six months later all the dead bodies showin up It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie But I gotta go identify the body Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts? Everytime I turn around a nigga gettin took out Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast Don't ask me why I'm motherfuckin stressed, things done changed |
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| 3. |
| 5:04 |
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Yeah
Motherfuckers better know... huh, huh Lock your windows, close your doors Biggie Smalls, huh... yeah (*scratching* "I'm a bad, bad, boy..") My man Inf left a Tec and a nine at my crib Turned himself in, he had to do a bid A one-to-three, he be home the end of '93 I'm ready to get this paper, G, you with me? Motherfucking right, my pocket's looking kind of tight and I'm stressed, yo Biggie let me get the vest No need for that, just grab the fucking gat The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves (what?) Treat it like boxing stick and move, stick and move Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit I've been robbin motherfuckers since the slave ships with the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die That's my word, nigga even try to bogart have his mother singing "It's so hard..." Yes Love, love your fucking attitude because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga that's getting screwed and bruised up from the pistol whipping welts on the neck from the necklace stripping Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing bitches too up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant I'm slamming niggaz like Shaquille, shit is real When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal cause Mom Duke ain't giving me shit so for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps I'm all that and a dime sack, where the paper at? (*sample* "But he's sticking you, and taking all of your money..") Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (*scratching* "I'm a bad, bad, boy..") - Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath You're talking to the robbery expert Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant cause when I lick shots the shits is persistent Huh, goodness gracious the papers Where the cash at? Where the stash at? Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug from the main thug, .357 slug And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel before you find out how blue steel feel from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater The money getter motherfuckers don't have better Rolex watches and colourful Swatches I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too Bitches get *strangled* for they earrings and bangles and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!" So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do? I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it and if I set it the cocksucker won't forget it (*sample* "But he's sticking you, and taking all of your money..") Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (*scratching* "I'm a bad, bad, boy..") - Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet But money looks sweet (where at?) in the Isuzu jeep Man, I throw him in the Beem, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar Ooh Biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back Hit her with the gat... Yo chill, Shorty, let me do that Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block The bitch act shocked, gettin shot on the spot (Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts (So why the fuck he keep lookin?) I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking Oh shit, now he lookin in my face You better haul ass cause I ain't with no fucking chase So lace up your boots, cause I'm about to shoot A true motherfucker going out for the loot - |
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| 4. |
| 4:18 |
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Verse One:
So you wanna be hardcore With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps But I can't feel that hardcore appeal that you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin This ain't Christopher Williams, still some MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy I get up in that ass like a wedgie Says who? Says me, the lyrical Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle" Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me Just for niggaz actin shifty Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor Smokin funk by the boxes, packin glocks is natural to eat you niggaz like chocolates The funk baby Chorus (repeats 8X) "I live for the funk, I'll die for the funk" (LOTUG, Chief Rocka) Verse Two: All I want is bitches, big booty bitches Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches from stayin in my business, what is this? Relentless approach, to know if I'm broke or not Just cause I joke and smoke a lot Don't mean I don't tote the glock Sixteen shots for my niggaz in the pen Until we motherfuckin meet again Huh, I'm doin rhymes now, fuck the crimes now Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now Cause I'm knee deep in the beats In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the Mac-10 by the seats For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the (car sirens) I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof Hold ya head, cause when you hit the bricks I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin dick The funk baby Repeat chorus Verse Three: So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya High as a motherfuckin helicopter That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor Beatin motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina [What's Love, Got to Do] when I'm rippin all through your whole crew Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns I got bags of funk, and it's sellin by the tons Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life Making money smoking mics like crack pipes It's type simple and plain to maintain I add a little funk to the brain The funk baby Repeat chorus |
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| 5. |
| 2:57 |
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Who the fuck is this? Pagin me at 5:46
in the mornin, crack of dawn an' now I'm yawnin - wipe the cold out my eye See who's this pagin me - and why It's my nigga Pop from the barbershop Told me he was in the gamblin spot, and heard the intricate plot of niggaz wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor Slow down love, please chill, drop the caper Remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville? That you rolled dice wit, smoked the blunts and got nice wit Yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect Nah they're my niggaz nah love wouldn't disrespect I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggaz that you knew from back when, when you was clockin minor figures Now they heard you blowin up like nitro And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow So - thank Fame for warnin me cause now I'm warnin you I got the mac nigga tell me what you gonna do [Chorus] Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper [B.I.G.] They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus with the Texas license plates outta state They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down They even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in Florida The fifth corridor -- call the coroner! There's gonna be a lot of slow singin, and flower bringin if my burgular alarm starts ringin Whatcha think all the guns is for? All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour the criminals, tryin to drop my decimals Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my cream And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha, see your picture Now they wanna grab the guns and come and getcha Betcha Biggie won't slip I got the calico with the black talons loaded in the clip So I can rip through the ligaments Put the fuckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul niggaz went Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta Fuck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains of his jacket - he had a gun he shoulda packed it Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket So I can reload and EXPLODE on ya rasshole I fuck around and get hardcore C-4 to ya door no beef no more nigga Feel the rough, scandalous The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you? I'm not gunnin, nigga I bust my gun an' hold on, I hear somebody comin... [talking] (C'mon nigga) I'm only comin to pass the gat (Just bring your motherfuckin ass on, come on) Are we gettin close, huh? (It's right over here) Are you sure this Biggie Smalls crib man? (Yeah I'm sure motherfucker, c'mon) Ahh fuck - it better be his motherfuckin house Fuck right here.. This better be this motherfucker's house (Oh shit) What, what's wrong? (It's that red dot on your head man) What red dot? .. Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head too! |
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| 6. |
| 4:29 |
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Yeah...
Yeah... (You ready motherfucker?) (We gon' kill your ass) As I grab the glock, put it to your headpiece One in the chamber, the safety is off release Straight at your dome homes, I wanna see cabbage Biggie Smalls the savage, doin your brain cells much damage Teflon is the material for the imperial mic ripper girl stripper the Henny sipper I drop lyrics off and on like a lightswitch Quick to grab the right bitch and make her drive the Q-45, glocks and tecs are expected when I wreck shit Respect is collected, so check it I got techniques drippin out my buttcheeks Sleep on my stomach so I don't fuck up my sheets, huh My shit is deep, deeper than my grave G I'm ready to die and nobody can save me Fuck the world, fuck my moms and my girl My life is played out like a jheri curl, I'm ready to die As I sit back and look when I used to be a crook Doin whatever it took from snatchin chains to pocketbooks A big BAD motherfucker on the wrong road I got some drugs tried to get the avenue sold I want it all from the Rolexes to the Lexus gettin paid, is all I expected My mother didn't give me what I want, what the fuck? Now I got a glock, makin motherfuckers duck Shit is real, and hungry's how I feel I rob and steal because that money got that whip appeal Kickin niggaz down the steps just for rep Any repercussion lead to niggaz gettin wet The infrared's at your head real steady You better grab your guns cause I'm ready, ready I'm ready to die! (Nah we ain't gon' kill your ass yet) (We gonna make you suffer) In a sec I throw the tec to your fuckin neck Everybody hit the deck, Biggie bout to get some wreck Quick to leave you in a coffin, for slick talkin You better act like CeCe, and keep on walkin When I hit ya, I split ya to the white meat You swung a left you swung a right you feel to the concrete Your face, my feet, they meet, we're stompin I'm rippin MC's from Tallahassee, to Compton Biggie Smalls on a higher plane Niggaz say I'm strange deranged because I put the 12 gauge to your brain Make your shit splatter Mix the blood like batter then my pocket gets fatter after the hit, leave you on the street with your neck split down your backbone to where your motherfuckin cheek drip The shit I kick, rip it through the vest Biggie Smalls passin any test, I'm ready to die! I'm ready (Time to go, we gonna put you out your misery motherfucker) Niggaz definitely know what time it is The Notorious one in full effect for ninety-three! Suicidal, I'm ready! (Now I lay me down to sleep) Yeah (Pray the Lord my soul to keep) (If I should die before I wake) (I pray the Lord my soul to take) (Cause I'm ready to die) (All y'all motherfuckers come with me if you want to) (Biggie Smalls the biggest man) (Rockin on and on in ninety-three, Easy Mo Bee) (Third Eye, and the rest of the Bad Boy fam) (I don't wanna see no cryin at my funeral) |
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| 7. |
| 4:19 |
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Sound of phone hanging up
*Biggie's daughter: All you hoes, callin' here for my daddy get off his dick. Like that Mommy? (Answering machine beep in between each message and the beat to "One More Chance in the background.) Message 1: Hi daddy, how you doin', this is Tyiest, I was thinkin' about you last night, mmm, you actin' like you can't call me no more cause you busy and all that, but you tryina tell me it wasn't good? Message 2: That shit is real fucked up what you did, I hooked you up wit my girl and shit you fucked her 8 times you see her you don't say SHIT to her you know what I'm sayin? And all that bitch do is call me all day talkin' bout you: "Why the fuck do he don't want me?" Message 3: Yo Big this is Quita, Kenya told me she saw you and Shana in the mall and I know you aint fuckin' her. You fucked with me last night that's my best friend and we don't get down like that. Message 4: Yeah muthafucka this is Stephanie, I was waitin' outside for your ass for like a fuckin' hour, I don't know what's goin on, muthafuckas tryina raw me, you be dissapearin' and shit I'm waitin' in the cold, what the fuck is goin' on, when you get in give me a fuckin' call, alright? When it comes to sex, I'm similar to the thriller in Manila Honeys call me Bigga the condom filler Whether it's stiff tongue or stiff dick Biggie squeeze it to make shit fit, now check this shit I got the pack of Rough Riders in the back of the Pathfinder You know the ep along by James Todd Smith I get swift with the lyrical gift Hit you with the dick, make your kidneys shift Here we go, here we go, but I'm not Domino I got the funk flow to make your drawers drop slow So recognize the dick size in these Karl Kani jeans I'm in thirteens, know what I mean I fuck around and hit you with the Hennessey dick Mess around and go blind, don't get to see shit The next batter, here to shatter your bladder, it doesn't matter Skinny or fat or white-skinned or black, baby I drop These boricua mommies screamin "Aiy papi!" I love it when they call me Big Poppa I only smoke blunts if they roll propa Look, I gotcha caught up in the drunk flow Fuck tae kwon do, I tote da fo'-fo' For niggaz gettin mad cause they bitch chose me A big black motherfucker with g ya see All I do is separate the game from the truth Big bang boots from the Bronx to Bolivia Gettin Physical like Olivia Newt Tricks suck my clique dick all day with no trivia So gimme a hoe, a bankroll and a bag of weed I'm guaranteed to fuck her till her nose bleed Even if your new man's a certified mack You'll get that H-town in ya, you'll want that old thing back Oh Biggie gimme one more chance I got that good dick girl, ya didn't know (Repeat) Is my mind playin tricks, like Scarface and Bushwick Willie D, havin nightmares of girls killin me She mad because what we had didn't last I'm glad because her cousin let me hit the ass Fuck the past let's dwell on the 500 SL, the E and J and ginger ale The way my pockets swell to the rim with Benjamins Another hon's in the crib, please send her in I fuck nonstop, lick my lips alot, used to lick the clits alot But lickin clits had to stop Cause y'all don't know how to act when the tongue go down below Peep the funk flow, really though I got the cleanest meanest penis, ya never seen this stroke of genius So take off your Tim boots and your bodysuit I mean the spandex and hit my man next Sex gettin rougher when it come to the nut buster Pussy crusher, black nasty motherfucker I don't chase em, I replace em and if I'm caressin em, I'm undressin em Fuck whatcha heard who's the best in New York For fillin fantasies without that nigga Mr. Rourke? Or Tattoo I got you wrapped around my dick And when I'm done I got to split shit Back shots is my position, I gotcha wishin for an intermission Fuck the kissin, lickin down to your belly button, I ain't frontin They don't call me B.I.G. for nuttin, all of a sudden Oh Biggie gimme one more chance I got that good dick girl you didn't know (Repeat |
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| 8. |
| 1:31 | 
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| 9. |
| 3:58 |
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| 10. |
| 4:46 |
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Intro:
(Fuck all you hoes) Get a grip motherfucker. Yeah, this album is dedicated to all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin', to all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin' in front of that called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughters, and all the niggaz in the struggle, you know what I'm sayin'? Uh-ha, it's all good baby bay-bee, uh Verse One: It was all a dream I used to read Word Up magazine Salt'n'Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine Hangin' pictures on my wall Every Saturday Rap Attack, Mr. Magic, Marley Marl I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped Smokin' weed and bamboo, sippin' on private stock Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack With the hat to match Remember Rappin' Duke, duh-ha, duh-ha You never thought that hip hop would take it this far Now I'm in the limelight 'cause I rhyme tight Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade Born sinner, the opposite of a winner Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner Peace to Ron G, Brucey B, Kid Capri Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky I'm blowin' up like you thought I would Call the crib, same number same hood It's all good Uh, and if you don't know, now you know, nigga, uh Chorus: You know very well who you are Don't let em hold you down, reach for the stars You had a go, but not that many 'cause you're the only one I'll give you good and plenty Verse Two: I made the change from a common thief To up close and personal with Robin Leach And I'm far from cheap, I smoke skunk with my peeps all day Spread love, it's the Brooklyn way The Moet and Alize keep me pissy Girls used to diss me Now they write letters 'cause they miss me I never thought it could happen, this rappin' stuff I was too used to packin' gats and stuff Now honies play me close like butter played toast From the Mississippi down to the east coast Condos in Queens, indo for weeks Sold out seats to hear Biggie Smalls speak Livin' life without fear Puttin' 5 karats in my baby girl's ears Lunches, brunches, interviews by the pool Considered a fool 'cause I dropped out of high school Stereotypes of a black male misunderstood And it's still all good Uh...and if you don't know, now you know, nigga Verse Three: Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis When I was dead broke, man I couldn't picture this 50 inch screen, money green leather sofa Got two rides, a limousine with a chauffeur Phone bill about two G's flat No need to worry, my accountant handles that And my whole crew is loungin' Celebratin' every day, no more public housin' Thinkin' back on my one-room shack Now my mom pimps a Ac' with minks on her back And she loves to show me off, of course Smiles every time my face is up in The Source We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us No heat, wonder why Christmas missed us Birthdays was the worst days Now we sip champagne when we thirst-ay Uh, damn right I like the life I live 'Cause I went from negative to positive And it's all... (It's all good) ...and if you don't know, now you know, nigga, uh Uh, uh...and if you don't know, now you know, nigga Uh...and if you don't know, now you know, nigga, uh Representin' B-Town in the house, Junior Mafia, mad flavor, uh Uh, yeah, a-ight |
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| 11. |
| 5:20 |
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| 12. |
| 4:01 |
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| 13. |
| 4:13 |
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To all the ladies in the place with style and grace
Allow me to lace these lyrical duches in your bushes Who rock grooves and make moves with all the mommies The back of the club, sippin Moet, is where you'll find me The back of the club, mackin hoes, my crew's behind me Mad question askin, blunt passin, music blastin But I just can't quit Cause one of these honies Biggie gots ta creep with Sleep with, keep the ep a secret why not Why blow up my spot cause we both got hot Now check it, I got more Mack than Craig and in the bed Believe me sweety I got enough to feed the needy No need to be greedy I got mad friends with Benz's C-notes by the layers, true fuckin players Jump in the Rover and come over tell your friends jump in the GS3, I got the chronic by the tree [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] Throw your hands in the air, if youse a true player [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] To the honies gettin money playin niggaz like dummies [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] If you got a gun up in your waist please don't shoot up the place Cause I see some ladies tonight who should be havin my baby Bay-bee Straight up honey really I'm askin Most of these niggaz think they be mackin but they be actin Who they attractin with that line, "What's your name what's your sign" Soon as he buy that wine I just creep up from behind And ask what your interests are, who you be with Things to make you smile, what numbers to dial You gon' be here for a while, I'm gon' go call my crew You go call your crew We can rendezvous at the bar around two Plans to leave, throw the keys to Lil Cease Pull the truck up, front, and roll up the next blunt So we can steam on the way to the telly go fill my belly A t-bone steak, cheese eggs and Welch's grape Conversate for a few, cause in a few, we gon' do What we came to do, ain't that right boo [truuuueee] Forget the telly we just go to the crib and watch a movie in the jacuzzi smoke l's while you do me [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] Throw your hands in the air, if youse a true player [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] To the honies gettin money playin niggaz like dummies [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] If you got a gun up in your waist please don't shoot up the place Cause I see some ladies tonight who should be havin my baby Bay-bee [How ya livin Biggie Smallz] In mansion and Benz's Givin ends to my friends and it feels stupendous Tremendous cream, fuck a dollar and a dream Still tote gats strapped with infrared beams Choppin o's, smokin live optimo's Money hoes and clothes all a nigga knows A foolish pleasure, whatever I had to find the buried treasure, so grams I had to measure However living better now, Gucci sweater now Drop top BM's I'm the man girlfriend [Honey check it Tell your friends, to get with my friends And we can be friends Shit we can do this every weekend Aight? Is that aight with you? Yeah... keep bangin] [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] Throw your hands in the air, if youse a true player [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] To the honies gettin money playin niggaz like dummies [I love it when you call me big pop-pa] If you got a gun up in your waist please don't shoot up the place Cause I see some ladies tonight who should be havin my baby Bay-bee |
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| 14. |
| 4:34 |
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Nineteen-seventy somethin',
nigga I don't sweat the date My moms is late so I had to plan my escape out the skins, in this world of fly girls Tanqueray and Hennessy until I cold hurl Ten months in this gut, what the fuck I wish moms'd hurry up so I could get buck wild, juvenile rippin' mics and shit New York New York, ready for the likes of this, uh Then came the worst date, May 21st 2:19, that's when my momma water burst No spouse in the house so she rode for self to the hospital, to see if she could get a little help Umbilical cord's wrapped around my neck I'm seein' my death and I ain't even took my first step I made it out, I'm bringin' mad joy The doctor looked and said, "He's gonna be a Bad Boy" Now I'm thirteen, smokin' blunts, makin' cream On the drug scene, fuck a football team Riskin' ruptured spleens by the age of sixteen Hearin' the coach scream at my lifetime dream, I mean I wanna blow up, stack my dough up So school I didn't show up, it fucked my flow up Mom said that I should grow up and check myself before I wreck myself, disrespect myself Put the drugs on the shelf? Nah, couldn't see it Scarface, King of New York, I wanna be it Rap was secondary, money was necessary Until I got incarcerated--kinda scary C74-Mark 8 set me straight Not able to move behind the great steel gate Time to contemplate, damn, where did I fail? All the money I stacked was all the money for bail Ninety-four, now I explore new horizons Mama smile when she see me, that's surprisin' Honeys is tantalizin', they freak all night Peep duckin' cops on the creep all night As I open my eyes and realizin' I changed Not the same deranged child stuck up in the game And to my niggas livin' street life Learn to treat life to the best, put stress to rest Still tote your vest man, niggas be trippin' In the streets without a gat? Nah, nigga you're slippin' If I'm pimpin on The F with weed on my breath Original hustler with the muffler on the Tec Respect to the Mac's and the Ac's To the freaks in the Jeeps, lick shots to my peeps - |
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| 15. |
| 3:29 |
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[Intro]
No... Fuck the bitches, fuck all the stank-ass hoes, all my niggas know Junior M.A.F.I.A. click, Gucci Don, you know how we play Fuckin skanless-ass bitches; you know how it go Boots I meet a bitch, fuck a bitch next thing you know you fuckin the bitch You just pass it around and shit, pass the shit like a cold and shit Fuck 'em [Verse 1] Now when I'm fuckin off gin I'm invincible Don't love no hoe, that's my priciple cause uh, bitches come [and uh] bitches go That's why I get my nut and I be out the fuckin do' [You know] they might be the one to set me up Wanna get they little brother to wet me up That's why I tote Tecs and stuff to get 'em off my case Just in case the little fucker ends up misplaced I don't give a bitch enough, to catch the bus and when I see the semen I'm leavin Bitches be schemin, I kid ya not That's why I keep my windows locked and my Glock cocked One hoe said, "Big, why you so hard on us? Why you swear all bitches are so scandalous?" Thug nigga 'til the end, tell a friend bitch Cause when I like ya, then ya go and fuck my friend bitch [And you know that ain't right] [Chorus - repeat 4X] You know that ain't right With a friend of mine [Verse 2] You see, I don't sweat these hoes I keep 'em in flavors like Timbos and Girbauds Bitches just like to play the merry-go [Yeah we know, drop the scenario] It was me, Dee, the MPV The blunts and brew thang, knockin' some Wu-tang M-E-T-H-Oh shit, look at them lips and them hips on that bitch Dee hit the dip, so I can drop my mackadocious shit Light the blunt clip, and recognize a pimp Needless to speak, the Gee's obsolete Don't sleep! Banged the skins in a week On the creep up the avenue I seen her on the block, who she rappin' to? That's my nigga Dee, damn he got Gee Now she fuckin him and fuckin me, see You know that ain't right [Chorus] [Verse 3] Uh...now I play her far like a moon play a star She still sweat me hard 'cause I'm a rap star I be cruisin up the block, I be passin her Pimpin hard with the female passenger And the only time I call her to hang Is when me and Dee blunted up, pissy, schemin on a gang-bang She should've used her intuition Then she wouldn't be classified in that position, listen She's sayin I dissed her 'cause I'm fuckin her sister A message to the fellas, that really gets 'em pissed, uh But she started that fuckin family She fucked my man Dee, so why she mad at me? (True) Plus your sister look better than you Give head better than you, pussy get wetter than you So break the fuck out like a rash I'm glad I ain't spend no cash to hit yo' nasty ass [Chorus] |
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| 16. |
| 3:44 |
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Verse One:
Live from Bedford-Stuyverson, the livest one Representin BK to the fullest Gats I pull it, bastards duckin when Big be buckin Chickenheads be cluckin in my bathroom fuckin It ain't nuttin, they know Big be handlin with the mac in the Ac' door paneling Bandaging MC's, oxygen they can't breathe Mad tricks up the sleeve, red boxers so my dick can breathe Breeze through in the Q-45 by my side, lyrical high And those that rushes my cluthes get put on crutches Get smoked like dutches from the master Hate to blast ya, but I have ta, you see I smoke a lot Your life is played out like Kwame, and them fuckin polka dots Who rock the spot? Biggie! You know how the weed yo, unbelievable Verse Two: B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G. Get it? Biggie Also known as the bon appetit Rappers can't sleep need sleepin Big keep creepin Bulelts heat-seekin, casualties need treatin Dumb rappers need teachin Lesson A - don't fuck with B-I, that's that, oh I, thought he was wack Oh come come now, why y'all so dumb now Hunt me or be hunted, three hundred and fifty-seven ways To summer sautee, I'm the winner all day Lights get dimmer down Biggie's hallway My forte causes caucausians to say He sounds demented, car-weed scented If I said it, I meant it Bite my tongue for no-one Call me evil, or unbelievable Verse Three: Buck shots out the sun roof of Lexus Coupe's Leave no witnesses, what you think this is Ain't no amateurs here, I damage and tear MC's fear me, they too near not to hear me Clearly, I'm the triple beam dream One thousand grams of uncut to the gut It seems fucked up, the way I touched up the grill Tryin to play gorilla, when you ain't no killer The gat's by your liver, your upper lip quiver Get ready to die, tell God I said hi And throw down some ice, for the nicest MC Niggaz know the steelo, unbelievable |
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| 17. |
| 2:50 |
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(RING, RING)
(Hello? Aw shit, nigga. What the fuck time is it, man? Oh god damn. Nigga do you know what time it is? Aw shit, what the fuck's goin' on? You alright? Aw, nigga what the fuck is wrong wit you?) When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell It don't make sense, goin' to heaven wit the goodie-goodies Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies God will probably have me on some real strict shit No sleepin' all day, no gettin my dick licked Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice All my life I been considered as the worst Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion I know my mother wished she got a fuckin' abortion She don't even love me like she did when I was younger Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes? Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies My babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2 Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you) I swear to God I just want to slit my wrists and end this bullshit Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit And squeeze, until the bed's, completely red I'm glad I'm dead, a worthless fuckin' buddah head The stress is buildin' up, I can't, I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please) You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back Should I die on the train track, like Remo in Beatstreet People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone She knew me and her sista had somethin' goin' on I reach my peak, I can't speak, call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak. I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin', matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'. (BANG) (hey yo big...hey yo big) |
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| 18. |
| 5:19 |
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Intro: Puff Daddy
As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers -- 2X As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers BIG - Now turn the mics up Turn that mic up, yea that beat is knockin to that microphone Turn that shit the fuck up Uh, what? Turn it up louder Yea, uh As we proceed, to give you what you need J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Verse One: Who shot ya? Seperate the weak from the ob-solete Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek Your heartbeat soun like Sasquatch feet Thundering, shaking the concrete Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots Saw me in the drop, three in the corner Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter Old school new school need to learn though I burn baby burn like Disco Inferno Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo Peel more skins than Idaho potato Niggaz know, the lyrics molestin is takin place Fuckin with B.I.G. it ain't safe I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools Niggaz mad because I know that Cash Rules Everything Around Me, two glock nines Any motherfucker whispering about mines And I'm, Crooklyn's finest You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this Interlude: As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Smoke blunts motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Ready to die motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Verse Two: I seen the light excite all the freaks Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps Niggaz wanna creep, got ta watch my back Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack? I switches all that, cock-sucker G's up One false move, get swiss cheesed up Clip to Tec, respect I demand it Slip and break the, 11th Commandment Thou shalt not fuck with raw C-Poppa Feel a thosand deaths when I drop ya I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don Pussy when I want Rolex on the arm You'll die slow but calm Recognize my face, so there won't be no mistake So you know where to tell Jake, lame nigga Brave nigga, turned front page nigga Puff Daddy flips daily I smoke the blunts he sips on the Bailey's on the rocks, tote glocks at christenings And my cock, in the fire position and... (Get live motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers) C'mere, c'mere [it ain't gotta be like that Big] open your fucking mouth, open your... didn't I tell you don't fuck with me? [*muffled* c'mon man] Huh? Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (as we proceed) [c'mon man] Look at you now (to give you what you need) Huh? [c'mon man] (9 to 5 motherfuckers) Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh? (get live motherfuckers) Bitch-ass nigga, what? (get live motherfuckers) [*muffled sounds, six gun shots*] (as we proceed...) Who shot ya? Outro: Puff Daddy ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get live motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) Get high motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers Hah!! As we proceed... (Who shot ya?) ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers East coast motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) West coast motherfuckers... West coast motherfuckers... hah! As we proceed, to give you what you need As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get money motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers As we proceeeeeeed To give you what you need... 9 to 5... |
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| 19. |
| 2:43 |
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As I sit back relax
puff a blunt/sip a Becks think about the sexy singers that I wanna sex I'd probably go to jail for fuckin Patti Labelle oooh Regina Belle, she'd probably do me swell Jasmine Guy was fly Mariah Carey's kinda scary wait a miniute what about my honey Mary the jeans they fittin like a glove i had a crush on you since Real Love hold your horses Ima show ya who the boss of intercourse is sex Im takin no losses even groups like SWV and TLC cant see B.I.G. wit telepathy the recipe of picture hardcore wit a gun pimpin aint easy but it's always fun when I bust my nut I bust em one by one so whats the 4-1-1 hun Chorus(repeat *4) Dreams of fuckin an R&B bitch Im jus playin/know what Im sayin I'll put Chante Moore pussy in stitches I'll fuck Rupaul.. before I fuck them ugly ass X-scape bitches you can 76 the 69...try 68 did Raven Simone called date rape only cuz Im paid/Im fuckin all of Jade and my Dj Zhane she likes it when they say everybody..move your body got Whitney Houson boostin from Bobby as I bus your cherry yo face lookin scarry backshots to Chaka..I know that pussy hairry Sade...ooooh I know that pussy tight spiked Tina Turner give her flashbacks of Ike smoke the bones/me gettin them red Im doin all of dem jimmy hats for Patra Im usin all of them (what about Toni Braxton) if that bitch give me action... Guaranteed Satisfaction Chorus repeat * 4 ....outro of Biggie talkin |
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