Enjoy Comments and Rating welcomed. Lyrics 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 Im ready to get this paper, g, you with me? Motherf***ing right, my pockets looking kind of tight And Im stressed, yo biggie let me get the vest No need for that, just grab the f***ing gat The first pocket thats fat the tec is to his back Word is bond, Im a smoke him yo dont fake no moves (what? ) Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move Nigga, you aint got to explain sh** Ive been robbin motherf***ers since the slave ships With the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherf***ers sure to die Thats my word, nigga even try to bogart Have his mother singing its so hard... Yes, love love youre f***ing attitude Because the nigga play p**** thats the nigga thats getting screwed And bruised up from the pistol whipping Webs on the neck from the necklace stripping Then Im dipping up the block and Im robbing bi***es too Up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldnt give f*** if youre pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 mom pendant Im slamming niggaz like shaquille, sh** is real When its time to eat a meal I rob and steal cos mom duke aint giving me sh** So for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter Huh, word to mother, Im dangerous Crazier than a bag ...
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