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#biggie
Kickin' all the way the Live Coolio deep in ya Culo/ it's that Boy Yosef comin' with major Flavas/ with so Many Styles more than a Hair Doo Voodoo/ got ya eyes on ya know Who?/ so many ****** wanna Smoke me Cuz im the New Joint/ puttin' sparks to ya Head ****** Red/ if u thinkin' about Frontin'' Me/ ill make u Crossover like EPMD/ Rap Fanatic since i was Swimmin' in the Nut Sack the Mack Attack/ hittin' all your perspectives im takin' out all the Primitives/ in the Rap Game Shoot ya Stick try again my- Flows erected as a **** in between ***** ***** so take Chance it ya Want/ Watch the gun taunt in ya Face a sad Disgrace/ Slappin' a new taste in ya Mouth i Dropped it my Style can't be Competed you Obsoleted i'm Makin Profits the Funk Baby!!!! Many Emcees sweet as a KitKats so cut the Chit Chat/ cuz im bout to Splatter their careers into pieces Gotthem Envisionin' Doubles like Noah i Told ya the Tru Soldier Rollin' Dogia/ marchin' to the Beat with my Vocal a Tru Loco/ when i'm sippin E & J **** an Airplay pinin' Indo/ playin' suckas close like who's holdin' the most/ weight? Pushin' rhymes like weights Loots stay Connected like freight Train Crates/i Dominate from all states that's why they Call Me All-State/ but ya Ain't in Good Hands -tryna Step to the Big Man keep u heated galore like Afghanistan gettin' in that *** like Sand/ so take Stand and a Bow cuz im the Prowl/ for that Number One Slot ya rhymes loose as Jar Jelly **** what the critics tell me "Mr Big Stuff" girls call me "Heavy D" From then shaft that lays between me the Funk Baby!!!
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
The 70s Funk Baby
Kickin' all the way the Live Coolio deep in ya Culo/ it's that Boy Yosef comin' with major Flavas/ with so Many Styles more than a Hair Doo Voodoo/ got ya eyes on ya know Who?/ so many ****** wanna Smoke me Cuz im the New Joint/ puttin' sparks to ya Head ****** Red/ if u thinkin' about Frontin'' Me/ ill make u Crossover like EPMD/ Rap Fanatic since i was Swimmin' in the Nut Sack the Mack Attack/ hittin' all your perspectives im takin' out all the Primitives/ in the Rap Game Shoot ya Stick try again my- Flows erected as a **** in between ***** ***** so take Chance it ya Want/ Watch the gun taunt in ya Face a sad Disgrace/ Slappin' a new taste in ya Mouth i Dropped it my Style can't be Competed you Obsoleted i'm Makin Profits the Funk Baby!!!! Many Emcees sweet as a KitKats so cut the Chit Chat/ cuz im bout to Splatter their careers into pieces Gotthem Envisionin' Doubles like Noah i Told ya the Tru Soldier Rollin' Dogia/ marchin' to the Beat with my Vocal a Tru Loco/ when i'm sippin E & J **** an Airplay pinin' Indo/ playin' suckas close like who's holdin' the most/ weight? Pushin' rhymes like weights Loots stay Connected like freight Train Crates/i Dominate from all states that's why they Call Me All-State/ but ya Ain't in Good Hands -tryna Step to the Big Man keep u heated galore like Afghanistan gettin' in that *** like Sand/ so take Stand and a Bow cuz im the Prowl/ for that Number One Slot ya rhymes loose as Jar Jelly **** what the critics tell me "Mr Big Stuff" girls call me "Heavy D" From then shaft that lays between me the Funk Baby!!!
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So I wrote a Notorious word to the Crook King of Brooklyn who wrote the street book Based on how the street he took with feet quite fleet. You know his spirit i did meet, first last year on bicycle day A tab of acid found its way on my tongue it lay, in the bathroom mirror I was prone to say, "Biggie Smalls, Biggie Smalls, Biggie Smalls" and my heart did in fear fall, Thought to myself "I swear I hear a glock click near my left ear" so I got the hell out of there. The second time was a bit more fair, the air of a fellow player, yao slanger, beat banger, he spat a 16 bar prayer of how he was an unknowing player In His plan a silent hand of hope for all the ****** that are broke. That the Sky is the limit, only make moves when your heart's in it, then you are guaranteed to win it. Ain't no sin against it, **** the world don't ask it for **** that's word to BIG
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Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
Word to BIG
Reality hanging by a thread. Coke cans and cannons by my bed. Show girls shooting up to the head. Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead. Pac in the boombox If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops. If the boom don't pop she got a new pops. Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks. Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide. But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie. Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive. Out in 10, when I return Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide. I'll need a long island on the rocks. Escape the piles we turn to rocks. We held their lives within our glocks. The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks. Boys in the hood with the little coke babies. Girls in the hood holding little hope babies. Daddy never came but we live in hope baby. All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
Coke, Baby.