Yes it's me, the B.I.G
Competition ripper ever since 13
Used to steal clothes was considered a thief
Until I started hustlin' on Fulton Street
Makin' loot, knockin' boots on the regular
Pass the microphone I'm the perfect competitor
Jewels and all that, my clothes is all that
Chumps steppin' to me, that's where they took a FALL at!
B.I.G. without burner, that's unheard of
I stay close to mine like Tina on Turner
Quick to smother, a punk *******
Undercover, word to mother, I'm above ya
And I love ya, cause you're a sweet *****
A crazy crab, the type to make my **** itch
I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used ta
B.I.G. is a born trooper
Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get loose ta
Stay dipped, and I'm not a booster
So what'cha got to say? This mackin' word is bond
There's no other assumption, I got it going on
I'm not conceited, my friends tell me this
Even my mother, be noddin' her head to this
Makes her proud to see her one son get loud
Flip on a sucker, and bow to the crowd
Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
Live in action, guaranteed RAW