feat. Sadat X[Intro][Hook]Come on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come onCome on, motherfuckers, come on[Verse 1: Sadat X]Let's go deep into the phrase, feel the sun raysOff the baldhead, everything is realBiggie put me on this joint, so I'mma be the big wheelWatch it spin, hey dad, placed your bet on sevenPeace to 106, 108, 110 and 111thHey Biggie, I understand you're from BrooklynWith .22s in your shoes, yo, keep this joint cooking[Verse 2: Notorious B.I.G.]Well, why not blow up the spot with Sadat?Release the brainstorm, to make your motherfucking brain warmA strange form, something kind of lyricalBiggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritualWell, in God we trust, guns I bustGot that disgusting, sewer-style dumpingAnd, uh, do you know where you're going to?Do you like the things that I bring?Make an emcee wanna sing for a livingTake the beatdown we fucking givingC'mon, motherfucker![Hook][Verse 3: Sadat X]What? Niggas want drama, putting work on my blockWhen I told y'all last week that shit was too hotSelling deuces and treys cuts my dimesSomebody don't get paid, somebody's block get sprayedReaction is delayed as ya run down the blockCaught one in your chest, your breath come in spurtsHey yo, Biggie, tell these niggas I'mma hit 'em where it hurtsThe Big City, it don't spare no bodiesCall me papi chulo, to all the spanish mamisI'm about ten blunts down, drank three or four stoutsSeen five fat asses, passed this bitch with glassesHey, your money, that's your stock; yo, bitch, pass the GlockI'mma tell them, "It can happen, don't play me with that rap shit"Life is real, so Biggie take the steel[Hook][Verse 4: Notorious B.I.G.]I got seven Mac-11's, about eight .38'sNine 9's, ten Mac-10's the shits never endYou can't touch my richesEven if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitchesBiggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yachtThe two weed spots, the two hot GlocksHuh, that's how I got the weed spotI shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb's breadLil' Gotti got the shotty to your bodySo don't resist, or you might miss ChristmasI tote guns, I make number runsI give emcees the runs drippingWhen I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far awayEverybody hit the D-E-C-KMy slow flows remarkablePeace to MatteoNow we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayoThat's crazy blunts, mad L'sMy voice excels from the avenue to jail cellsOh my God I'm dropping shit like a pigeonI hope you're listening, smacking babies at they christeningSo you better grab your pistolCause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fucking shit spillAnd I'm talking 'bout buckets, why did I have to do it?Sadat said fuck it, you got a gun, nigga bust itCause I got mo' shots to pop yaBig Poppa, breaking you off something properSigning off is the hardcore rap singerAKA crack slinger, bring it any time nigga[Hook]
Songs by The Notorious B.I.G.
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