A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Big Tymers

"Rap Phenomenon"

[Intro]
"Well it's the Funk Docta Spock.."
"Meth-Tical.."
"Biggie.. Biggie.." (mmmhmmmmmm)

[Verse 1: Notorious B.I.G.]
Uhh.. uhh.. uhh.. (yo c'mon Big) uhh..
f*ck that, I preach it, my nine reaches
The prestigious, cats that speak this, Willie sh*t
Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
Smack ya cabbage, half-ass rappers, shouldn't have it
So I grab it, never run, the outcome
Is usually, a beatdown brutally, f*ck who you be
Or where you're from, West or East Coast, squeeze toast
Leave most in the blood they layin in, what, what?
The rings and things you sing about, bring 'em out
It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth
It's more than I expected, I thought your jewels was rented
But they wasn't, so run it, cousin
I could chill, the heat doesn't
Ran up in your shell about a dozen
You never see bank like Frank White
Your hand clutchin, your chest-plate contemplate
You 'bout to die, n*gga wait, keep yo' hands high

[Verse 2: Redman]
Yo.. yo yo
I don't brown nose out of town hoes
I'm up around fo' with the crowbar to the five point oh
I get bagged, I'm John Doe, suspect
You ass like prime roastin, Calvin Klein clothes
Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear
I'm out there, I bought it with George Jetson here
Your time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trustin n*ggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm p*ss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris brother
I.C.U., my sheisty crew, like ice me too
I break your legs, leave your eyes slightly blue
The Doc was born with a grenade palm
I'm concurrent in your hood like a, teenage mom
Yo Biggie (what? what?) She havin my bay-bayy
If I pull out the A.K., keep your hands high

[Scratched Hook]
"This rule is so underrated.." -
"Actin as if it can't happen, you're frontin" -
"Ain't no other kings in this rap thing.." -
"Biggie, a motherf*ckin rap phenomenon" -
"This rule is so underrated.." -
"Actin as if it can't happen, you're frontin" -
"Ain't no other kings in this rap thing.." -
"Biggie, a motherf*ckin rap phenomenon" -

[Verse 3: Notorious B.I.G.]
Uhh, uhh
I got a new mouth to feed, I'm due South with keys
Y'all pick seeds out y'all weed, I watch cowards bleed
Motherf*cker please, it's my block with my rocks
f*ck that hip-hop, them one-two's, and you don't stops
Me and my n*gga Lance, took Kim and Cease advance
Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants
From Branson, now we lampin, twelve room mansion
b*tches get naked off "Get Money", "Player's Anthem"
Don't forget, "One More Chance" and, my other hits, other sh*t
n*ggas spit be counterfeit, robbery come naturally
In and out like f*ckin rapidly, pass the gat to me
Make his chest rest, where his back should be, talkin' blasphemy
Blastin me, your family, rest in coffins often
Frank Wizzah, far from soft or fragilla
Play hard like Reggie Miller, rapper, slash dope dealer
Slash guerilla, slash illest turned iller

[Verse 4: Method Man]
Now now
Don't approach me with that rah rah sh*t, you out of pocket
I take these adolescents back to Spofford
Mentally, my energy, is like a figure eight, on it's side
That's infinity
Too many sick n*ggas, nickel nines bring the remedy
When you play the field, what's the penalty?
Unnecessary roughness, career endin' injuries for suckers
Stuck on stupid, shoot 'em with a dart like Cupid
Until they got love for my music
Star Wars, I'm Han Solo, with three egos
And three charges, I got to "See-three-P.O.'s"
This is whoop-yo'-ass-day, the sequel
High bar flow-er with no equal
n*ggas swingin' swords in the WAR, that's my people
Sho' nuff, before I roll up, this is a hold up
Hands high, reach for the sky
I rep S.I., the unpretty, word to Left Eye
New York sh*tty, put they weight on it
And who better for the job than Biggie?
The Notorious, Jeee-zus, "Unbelievable" rhyme that reaches
And touch individual, small frame buck and change
MC, What's-Your-Name, tuck your chain
All about the fortune, f*ck the fame, labels still extortin'
Kick me when I'm down, but I'm up again, scorchin'
Hot — forcin' my way up in the door
To kill the bullsh*t like a matador
Keep your hands high (what?)

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