my favorite freestlye from the greatest rapper of all time
Biggie Smalls is the wickedest Niggas say I'm pussy, I dare you to stick your dick in this If I was pussy I'd be filled with syphilis Herpes, gonorrhea, climittia, getting rid'a ya Got it locked like the penatentury Niggas mention me for MC execution Who you choosin, the wack MC Or the fat black MC Jack Dempsey will start shaking All it's taking, is some marijuana and I'm making MCs break fast, like flap-jacks and bacon Back spins, the windmills, who's still the gin-drinker Ill-thinker, exploding when the paper hits the ink-ugh Take the Gangster Chronicles, turn to page 6-6-6 Holocost, B.I.G. the merciless Niggas press they luck-and They get a butt-fuckin Straight up the ass Raw dog with the rash And I don't fuck with the condoms The condoms is a problem from the AIDS getting sprayed Diseases, B.I.G. pleases MCs across the seas is just the way, I crush my pray, hey I'm crazy and deranged Blowing niggas out the frame, simple and plain But getting back, to the black, rhinocerisous rap B.I.G. took a loss, hypopotheris is back, nigga Recognize Notorious Biggie Smalls, '94 Ready To Die
i got seven mac elevens, about eight thirty eights nine nines ten mac tens the shits neva end, you can't touch my riches, even if you had MC hammer and the three fifty seven bitches, biggie smalls the millionaire the mansion the yahct, the two weed spots the two hot glocks thats how i got the weed spot i shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread, little gotti got the shottie to yo body, so don't resist or ya might miss christmas, i tote guns, i make number run,s i give emcees the runs drippin, when i throw my clippin the AK, i slay from far away everybody hit the D.E.C.K., my slow flows remarkable, peace to mateo now we smokin weed like tony montana sniffed the yayo, that's crazy blunts mad, els my voice excels from the avenue to jail cells, oh my god i'm droppin shit like a pigeon, i hope ya listening, smacking babies at they christening...
Oh man, where to begin? The greatest rapper of all time. Ten years, and I know exactly where I was the moment I heard the news. Rest in peace Biggie Smalls.
I dont wanna live no mo Sometimes I hear death knockin at my front door Im livin everyday like a hustle, another drug to juggle; Another day, another struggle
I know how it feel to wake up fucked up Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell People look at you like you'se the user Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser But they dont know about your stress-filled day Baby on the way mad bills to pay Thats why you drink tanqueray; so you can reminisce And wish, you wasnt livin so devilish, ssshit I remember I was just like you Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62s Cause g-e-d, wasnt b-i-g I got p-a-i-d, thats why my moms hate me She was forced to kick me out, no doubt Then I figured out licks went for twenties down south Packed up my tools for my raw power move Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves For chumps tryin to stop my flow And what they dont know will show on the autopsy Went to see papi, to cop me a brick Asked for some consignment and he wasnt tryin to hear it Smoking mad newports cause Im due in court For an assault, that I caught, in bridgeport, new york Catch me if you can like the gingerbread man You better have your gat in hand, cause man
I had the master plan Im in the caravan on my way to maryland With my man two-tecs to take over this projects They call him two-tecs, he tote two tecs And when he start to bust he like to ask, whos next? I got my honey on the amtrak With the crack in the crack of her ass Two pounds of hash in the stash I wait for hon to make some quick cash I told her she could be lieutenant, bitch got gassed At last, Im literally loungin black Sittin back, countin double digit thousand stacks Had to re-up; see whats up with my peeps Toyota deal-a-thon 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 couldnt hit me harder We got infiltrated, like nino at the carter Heard tec got murdered in a town I never heard of By some bitch named alberta over nickel-plated burners And my bitch swear to God she wont snitch I told her when she hit the bricks Ill make the hooker rich Conspiracy, shell be home in three Until then I looks out for the whole family A true g, thats me, blowing like a bubble; In the everyday struggle
Im seeing body after body and our mayor guiliani Aint tryin to see no black man turn to john gotti My daughter use a potty so shes older now Educated street knowledge ima mold her now Trick a little dough buyin young girls fringes Dealin with the dope fiend binges, seein syringes In the veins; hard to explain, how I maintain The crack smoke make my brain feel so strange Breakin days on the set, no sweat Drunk off moet, cant bag yet because its still wet But when that dry, baggin five at a time I can clock about nine on the check cashin line I had the first and the third; rehearse thats my word Thick in the game, ds knew my first name Should I quit? shit no! even though they had me scared Yo they got a eight, I gotta teck with air holes.. ..and thats just how the shit go in the struggle motherfucker
This came on in the club last week and I fucking lost my shit
"Gimme The Loot"
[Intro:]
Yeah. Motherfuckers 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 I'm ready to get this paper, G, you with me?
Motherfucking right, my pocket's looking kind of tight and I'm stressed, yo Biggie let me get the vest
No need for that, just grab the fucking gat The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves (what?) Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move
Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit I've been robbing motherfuckers since the slave ships with the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die That's my word, nigga even try to bogart have his mother singing "It's so hard..."
Yes, love love you're fucking attitude because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga that's getting screwed and bruised up from the pistol whipping webs on the neck from the necklace stripping Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing bitches too up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant
I'm slamming niggaz like Shaquille, shit is real When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal 'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me shit so for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps I'm all that and a dime sack, where the payback?
[Verse Two:]
Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath You're talking to the robbery expert Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant 'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers Where the cash at? Where the stash at? Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug from the main thug, .357 slug And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel before you find out how blue steel feel
from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater The money getter motherfuckers don't have better Rolex watches and colourful Swatches I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it
Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!"
So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too
Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it and if I said it the cocksucker won't forget it
[Verse Three:]
Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet But money looks sweet (where at?) in the Isuzu jeep
Man, I throw him in the Beem, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar
Ooh Biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back Hit her with the gat...
Yo chill, Shorty, let me do that... Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block The bitch act shocked, getting shot on the spot (Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts (So why the fuck he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking Oh shit, now he looking in my face You better haul ass 'cos I ain't with no fucking chase So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot A true motherfucker going out for the loot
This came on in the club last week and I fucking lost my shit
I just remembered that at a house party over the wknd I was dealing w/a very limited ipod selection and 'Unbelievable' was one of maybe two Big songs... everybody lost it for that one...
R.I.P.
Can someone ressurect that drawing (made of letters?) that was animated all slow-like?
This came on in the club last week and I fucking lost my shit
I just remembered that at a house party over the wknd I was dealing w/a very limited ipod selection and 'Unbelievable' was one of maybe two Big songs... everybody lost it for that one...
R.I.P.
Can someone ressurect that drawing (made of letters?) that was animated all slow-like?
Truly one of my favourite rappers of all time. Wonder what would have happened if he was still around today and whether the collab album last year should make me thankful that he only produced two longplayers in his lifetime. Still waiting on those genuine acappellas.................
DocMcCoy"Go and laugh in your own country!" 5,917 Posts
When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell It don't make sense, goin' to heaven wit the goodie-goodies Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies God will probably have me on some real strict shit No sleepin' all day, no gettin my dick licked Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice All my life I been considered as the worst Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion I know my mother wished she got a fuckin' abortion She don't even love me like she did when I was younger Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes? Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies My babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2 Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you) I swear to God I just want to slit my wrists and end this bullshit Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit And squeeze, until the bed's, completely red I'm glad I'm dead, a worthless fuckin' buddah head The stress is buildin' up, I can't, I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please) You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back Should I die on the train track, like Remo in Beatstreet People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone She knew me and her sista had somethin' goin' on I reach my peak, I can't speak, call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak. I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin', matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'. [BANG]
I remember holding the tape in my hands at Sam Goody. It was crazy back then because they would just have these walls of tapes. I didn't have a CD player for a long while, it was just tapes and a walkman. Walking in and just scanning through all the labels until i saw it. Flipping it over looking at the song names even though Juicy was the only thing i'd heard. I used to lay in bed and listen to my tapes over and over at night fighting off sleep. Man, that was seems like yesterday.
Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves Gazelle shades, and corn braids Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies Shootin skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews With the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues Turn your pagers, to nineteen ninety three Niggaz is gettin smoked g, believe me Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick Cause real street niggaz aint havin that shit Totin techs for rep, smokin blunts in the project Hallways, shootin dice all day Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin shit We get hype and shit and start lifin shit So step away with your fist fight ways Motherfucker this aint back in the days, but you dont hear me though
No more cocoa leave-io, one two three One two three, all of this to me, is a mystery I hear you motherfuckers talk about it But I stay seein bodies with the motherfuckin chalk around it And Im down with the shit too For the stupid motherfuckers wanna try to use kung-fu Instead of a mac-10 he tried scrappin Slugs in his back and, thats what the fuck happens When you sleep on the street Little motherfuckers with heat, want ta leave a nigga six feet deep And we comin to the wake To make sure the cryin and commotion aint a motherfuckin fake Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us Look at em now, they even fuckin scared of us Callin the city for help because they cant maintain Damn, shit done changed
If I wasnt in the rap game Id probably have a key knee deep in the crack game Because the streets is a short stop Either youre slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jumpshot Shit, its hard being young from the slums Eatin five cent gums not knowin where your meals comin from And now the shits gettin crazier and major Kids younger than me, they got the sky grand pagers Goin outta town, blowin up Six months later all the dead bodies showin up It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie But I gotta go identify the body Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts? Everytime I turn around a nigga gettin took out Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast Dont ask me why Im motherfuckin stressed, things done changed
ME TOO!! That beat is one of the most simple..but unforgetable I will be bringing that to the club with me tonight for sure. And one of Biggie songs had that Sylvia joint which is like my favorite 70's female track ever!!
Kinda makes me wonder if Hip Hop would have died ( r.i.p.) If people like Biggie and Big L. hadn't.
Yeah I agree I didnt really look at it that way, it does make me wonder still. I guess there can never be the what if's and history changing happenings in real life but it's interesting to ponder for a minute.
Comments
Oh man, where to begin? The greatest rapper of all time. Ten years, and I know exactly where I was the moment I heard the news. Rest in peace Biggie Smalls.
Sometimes I hear death knockin at my front door
Im livin everyday like a hustle, another drug to juggle;
Another day, another struggle
I know how it feel to wake up fucked up
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell
People look at you like you'se the user
Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser
But they dont know about your stress-filled day
Baby on the way mad bills to pay
Thats why you drink tanqueray; so you can reminisce
And wish, you wasnt livin so devilish, ssshit
I remember I was just like you
Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62s
Cause g-e-d, wasnt b-i-g
I got p-a-i-d, thats why my moms hate me
She was forced to kick me out, no doubt
Then I figured out licks went for twenties down south
Packed up my tools for my raw power move
Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves
For chumps tryin to stop my flow
And what they dont know will show on the autopsy
Went to see papi, to cop me a brick
Asked for some consignment and he wasnt tryin to hear it
Smoking mad newports cause Im due in court
For an assault, that I caught, in bridgeport, new york
Catch me if you can like the gingerbread man
You better have your gat in hand, cause man
I had the master plan
Im in the caravan on my way to maryland
With my man two-tecs to take over this projects
They call him two-tecs, he tote two tecs
And when he start to bust he like to ask, whos next?
I got my honey on the amtrak
With the crack in the crack of her ass
Two pounds of hash in the stash
I wait for hon to make some quick cash
I told her she could be lieutenant, bitch got gassed
At last, Im literally loungin black
Sittin back, countin double digit thousand stacks
Had to re-up; see whats up with my peeps
Toyota deal-a-thon 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 couldnt hit me harder
We got infiltrated, like nino at the carter
Heard tec got murdered in a town I never heard of
By some bitch named alberta over nickel-plated burners
And my bitch swear to God she wont snitch
I told her when she hit the bricks Ill make the hooker rich
Conspiracy, shell be home in three
Until then I looks out for the whole family
A true g, thats me, blowing like a bubble;
In the everyday struggle
Im seeing body after body and our mayor guiliani
Aint tryin to see no black man turn to john gotti
My daughter use a potty so shes older now
Educated street knowledge ima mold her now
Trick a little dough buyin young girls fringes
Dealin with the dope fiend binges, seein syringes
In the veins; hard to explain, how I maintain
The crack smoke make my brain feel so strange
Breakin days on the set, no sweat
Drunk off moet, cant bag yet because its still wet
But when that dry, baggin five at a time
I can clock about nine on the check cashin line
I had the first and the third; rehearse thats my word
Thick in the game, ds knew my first name
Should I quit? shit no! even though they had me scared
Yo they got a eight, I gotta teck with air holes..
..and thats just how the shit go in the struggle motherfucker
"Gimme The Loot"
[Intro:]
Yeah. Motherfuckers 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
I'm ready to get this paper, G, you with me?
Motherfucking right, my pocket's looking kind of tight
and I'm stressed, yo Biggie let me get the vest
No need for that, just grab the fucking gat
The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back
Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves (what?)
Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move
Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit
I've been robbing motherfuckers since the slave ships
with the same clip and the same four-five
Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die
That's my word, nigga even try to bogart
have his mother singing "It's so hard..."
Yes, love love you're fucking attitude
because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga that's getting screwed
and bruised up from the pistol whipping
webs on the neck from the necklace stripping
Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing bitches too
up the herring bones and bamboos
I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant
Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant
I'm slamming niggaz like Shaquille, shit is real
When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal
'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me shit
so for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter
Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous
Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust
When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps
I'm all that and a dime sack, where the payback?
[Verse Two:]
Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up
and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup
Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece
The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath
You're talking to the robbery expert
Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt
Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant
'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent
Huh, goodness gracious the papers
Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug
from the main thug, .357 slug
And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip
One in the chamber, 32 in the clip
Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel
before you find out how blue steel feel
from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
The money getter motherfuckers don't have better
Rolex watches and colourful Swatches
I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it
Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too
Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles
and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers
And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!"
So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too
Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it
and if I said it the cocksucker won't forget it
[Verse Three:]
Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet
But money looks sweet (where at?) in the Isuzu jeep
Man, I throw him in the Beem, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M
and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream
Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car
Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar
Ooh Biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back
Hit her with the gat...
Yo chill, Shorty, let me do that...
Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block
The bitch act shocked, getting shot on the spot
(Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool
They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts
(So why the fuck he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken
I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking
Oh shit, now he looking in my face
You better haul ass 'cos I ain't with no fucking chase
So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot
A true motherfucker going out for the loot
I just remembered that at a house party over the wknd I was dealing w/a very limited ipod selection and 'Unbelievable' was one of maybe two Big songs... everybody lost it for that one...
R.I.P.
Can someone ressurect that drawing (made of letters?) that was animated all slow-like?
This should read:
I know it exists somewhere.
Here you go
Typo Biggie
Truly one of my favourite rappers of all time. Wonder what would have happened if he was still around today and whether the collab album last year should make me thankful that he only produced two longplayers in his lifetime. Still waiting on those genuine acappellas.................
R.I.P.
How different would the last 10 years have been if B.I.G. was still with us? Hard to even imagine...
Biggie Smalls is the illest.
...but the Ready To Die album is MY number one Hiphop album of all time.
I heard The What before I heard Juicy and that shit just floored me...
Remember back in the days, when niggaz had waves
Gazelle shades, and corn braids
Pitchin pennies, honies had the high top jellies
Shootin skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly
Loungin at the barbeques, drinkin brews
With the neighborhood crews, hangin on the avenues
Turn your pagers, to nineteen ninety three
Niggaz is gettin smoked g, believe me
Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick
Cause real street niggaz aint havin that shit
Totin techs for rep, smokin blunts in the project
Hallways, shootin dice all day
Wait for niggaz to step up on some fightin shit
We get hype and shit and start lifin shit
So step away with your fist fight ways
Motherfucker this aint back in the days, but you dont hear me though
No more cocoa leave-io, one two three
One two three, all of this to me, is a mystery
I hear you motherfuckers talk about it
But I stay seein bodies with the motherfuckin chalk around it
And Im down with the shit too
For the stupid motherfuckers wanna try to use kung-fu
Instead of a mac-10 he tried scrappin
Slugs in his back and, thats what the fuck happens
When you sleep on the street
Little motherfuckers with heat, want ta leave a nigga six feet deep
And we comin to the wake
To make sure the cryin and commotion aint a motherfuckin fake
Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us
Look at em now, they even fuckin scared of us
Callin the city for help because they cant maintain
Damn, shit done changed
If I wasnt in the rap game
Id probably have a key knee deep in the crack game
Because the streets is a short stop
Either youre slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jumpshot
Shit, its hard being young from the slums
Eatin five cent gums not knowin where your meals comin from
And now the shits gettin crazier and major
Kids younger than me, they got the sky grand pagers
Goin outta town, blowin up
Six months later all the dead bodies showin up
It make me wanna grab the nine and the shottie
But I gotta go identify the body
Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts?
Everytime I turn around a nigga gettin took out
Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast
Dont ask me why Im motherfuckin stressed, things done changed
RIP Biggie.
Btw, wasn't Cool C supposed to be put to death today?
get it? BIGGIE!!!
that kid??? He's from Brooklyn!!!!
ME TOO!! That beat is one of the most simple..but unforgetable I will be bringing that to the club with me tonight for sure. And one of Biggie songs had that Sylvia joint which is like my favorite 70's female track ever!!
Kinda makes me wonder if Hip Hop would have died ( r.i.p.) If people like Biggie and Big L. hadn't.
fallen rapper prototypes
question is: would Biggie have fallen off by now if he hadn't died.
not saying Biggie wasn't great, but if Nas had died after studio album #2 I think we'd feel differently about him, too.
yes