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 robbin 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 set 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, gettin 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 lookin?) I guess to get his life tooken
 I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking
 Oh shit, now he lookin 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