Run from the police, picture that,
Nigga I’m too fat…
I fuck around and catch a asthma attack.
Tag Archives: RIPBiggie
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Bullets heat-seekin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
I know how it feels to wake up fucked up,
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell.
People look at you like you’s the user,
Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser.
But they don’t know about the stress-filled day…
Baby on the way, mad bills to pay,
That’s why you drink Tanqueray,
So you can reminisce and wish
You wasn’t living so devilish, shit.
Damn right I like the life I live,
Cause I went from negative to positive.
Back in the days, our parents used to take care of us.
Look at ‘em now…they even fuckin’ scared of us.
If I wasn’t in the rap game,
I’d probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game.
Because the streets is a short stop:
Either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
You and your friends…always together,
No time for the B-I-G, so I’m O-U-T.
The sex was great, but the headaches I can’t take.
I think I made a very big mistake.
You’re mad cause my style you’re admiring…
Don’t be mad, UPS is hiring.
There’s gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing
If my burglar alarm starts ringing
…The greatest rapper of all time died on March 9th.
God bless his soul, rest in peace, kid.
It’s because of him now at least I know what beef is.
Bitch is in the back looking righteous
In a tight dress…I think I might just
Hit her with a little Biggie 101:
How to tote a gun,
And have fun with Jamaican rum.
If I wasn’t in the rap game,
I’d probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game.
Because the streets is a short stop:
Either you’re slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot.
Lyrically, I’m supposed to represent;
I’m not only the client, I’m the player president.
…The greatest rapper of all time died on March 9th.
God bless his soul, rest in peace, kid.
It’s because of him now at least I know what beef is.
Y’all really think Ms. Shakur, or Ms. Wallace,
Or Ms. Mizell from out in Hollis
Wouldn’t exchange the love and fame
Attached to their loved ones’ names
Just to have ‘em still alive in their arms?
Run from the police, picture that,
Nigga I’m too fat…
I fuck around and catch a asthma attack.