i mean when has biggie ever spit like this.
Mannerisms of a young Bobby DeNiro, spent spanish wisdoms
in a whip with dinero, crime organized like the pharoah
I cream, I diamond gleam
High post like Akiem, got a lot of things to drop
Brooklyn to Queens, I gotta keep my steam
nikkaz wanna try to hem my long jeans
Uptown fiend for Jay-Z to appear on the scene
In the meanwhile, here's somethin dope for y'all to lean
Liason for days on in
Money make the world go around so I made songs to spin
Can I Live, did dough, with my nigs, dividends flow
like the Mississippi riv', lookin jig'
Can't do for dolo, had to turn away when Tony killed Manolo
That's real, mixed feelings like a mulatto
Thug thought he was O.G. Bobby Johnson
I played him like Benny Blanco, mano a mano
you ain't ready, I find no trigger straight up shoot my guns
horizontal, get your weight up, I am
two point two pounds you're barely a hundred and twenty-five grams
Wouldn't expect y'all to understand this money
Do the knowledge, do the few dollars, I'm due to demolish
Crews Brooklyn through Hollis to a hood near you, what the fukk...
ever line in this verse relates to one each other and makes sense
while still maintaining complex rhyme schemes
I had the master plan
I'm in the caravan on my way to Maryland
With my man Tutex to take over this projects
They call him Tutex, he tote two techs
And when he starts to bust
He likes to ask who's next?
I got my honies on the Amtrack
With the crack in the crack of her ass
Two pounds of hash in the stash
I wait for hun to make some quick cash
I told her she could be lieutenant bytch got gassed
At last I'm literally lounging Black,
Seating back counting double digit thousands stacks
Had to re-up see what's up with my peeps
Toyota dealer cars had it cheap on the jeeps
See who got smoked, what rumors was spread
Last I heard I was dead with six to the head
Then I got the phone call
It couldn't hit me harder
We got infiltrated
Like Nino at the Carter
I heard Tec got murdered in a town I've never heard of
By some bytch named Alberta over nickel-plated burners
And my bytch swear to God she won't snitch
I told her where she hit the bricks I'll make the hooker rich
Conspiracy should be home in three
Until them I look south for the home family
A true G, that's me blowing like a bubble
In the everyday struggle
