[Intro:]
Yeah. Motherf**ers better know... huh, huh. Lock your windows,
close your doors. Biggie Smalls, huh...yeah.
[Verse One:]
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?
Motherf**ing 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 f**ing 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
n***a, you ain't got to explain sh**
I've been robbing motherf**ers since the slave ships
with the same clip and the same four-five
Two point-blank, a motherf**er's sure to die
That's my word, n***a even try to bogart
have his mother singing "It's so hard..."
Yes, love love you're f**ing attitude
because the n***a play p**y that's the n***a that's getting screwed
and bruised up from the pistol whipping
webs on the neck from the necklace stripping
Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing b**hes too
up the herring bones and bamboos
I wouldn't give f** if you're pregnant
Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant
I'm slamming n***az like Shaquille, sh** is real
When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal
'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me sh**
so for the bread and bu*ter I leave n***az in the gutter
Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous
Crazier than a bag of f**ing Angel Dust
When I bust my gat motherf**ers take dirt naps
I'm all that and a dime sack, where the payback?
[Verse Two:]
Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up
and I'm shooting n***az 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
'cos when I lick shots the sh**s is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers
Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
n***a, pa** that before you get your grave dug
from the main thug, .357 slug
And my n***a Biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip
Motherf**ers better strip, yeah n***a peel
before you find out how blue steel feel
from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
The money getter motherf**ers don't have better
Rolex watches and colourful Swatches
I'm digging in pockets, motherf**ers can't stop it
Man, n***az come through I'm taking high school rings too
b**hes get stripped down 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 b**h he can get robbed too
Tell him Biggie took it, what the f** he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it
and if I said it the co*ks**er won't forget it
[Verse Three:]
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 f**ing C.R.E.A.M
and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream
Hold up, he got a f**ing b**h 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 f**ing car keys and cruise up the block
The b**h act shocked, getting shot on the spot
(Oh sh**! The cops!) Be cool, fool
They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is f**ing doughnuts
(So why the f** he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken
I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking
Oh sh**, now he looking in my face
You better haul a** 'cos I ain't with no f**ing chase
So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot
A true motherf**er going out for the loot