Y'all nikkas deal with emotions like bytches
What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watching his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissing women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly
In '88 you was getting chased through your building
Calling my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers
All I did was gave you a style for you to run with
Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the god
Wearing Jaz chains, no TECs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a p*ssy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe, trying to work it out, you tryna' get brolic?
Ask me if I'm trying to kick knowledge
Nah, I'm trying to kick the shyt you need to learn though
That ether, that shyt that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy
Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas?
Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my Glock, fellas
Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you getting girls now 'cause of your looks?
Ne-gro please
You no mustache having, with whiskers like a rat
Compared to Beans you wack
And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to hanging with Caine, to Herb, to Big
And, Eminem murdered you on your own shyt
You a dikk-riding fagot, you love the attention
Queens nikkas run you nikkas, ask Russell Simmons
Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick
J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dikk
So little shorty's getting gunned up and clapped quick
How much of Biggie's rhymes is goin' come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shyt, apologize, nikka, just ask Kiss.