Lyrics:
LOOP is the troupe
And I ride with my shooters
This big body Bordeau
I ride with my shooters
I pull up in phantom, my niggas is troopers
Put shells
Peap at da top I'm nearer
I am da circler mover
24 shooter
16 year old mc trooper
Always recorder
Walk wid da Lord not a borer
Mr.munk's raw to da corer
Right about now
Mr. Clynch's career is about to be ended by this fucking diss
Judge Barnes presiding
The prosecuting attorneys are
Jaz Barnes, Jaz
Oh, Mr President!
Get a tie, get a suit and tie guy
He work me from 9-5
Come home make me go na-night
Got me so high I'm seeing sky
Big man he
Mista Nightridah's creepin up by the minute, sky's the limit
Super-duper storm trooper, gotta watch my back like Martin Luther
See me comin wit my
gonna keep true love from callin' us
Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus
Honey, do you remember our first Christmas?
Standin' by that poor old Christmas tree
the way, the one by the way
I ain't trippin', I just do this shit for fun by the way
The truth by the way, the proof by the way
Mr. front up on me know I'm
lonesome ground down low
Gonna lay him in that cold lonesome ground
Well they laid the President by that long cold branch Mr Garfield's been laid down
Mista Nightridah's creepin up by the minute, sky's the limit
Super-duper storm trooper, gotta watch my back like Martin Luther
See me comin wit my
can't afford
To give you my love (oh yeah)
You think you're higher than every star above
Mr. Big Stuff, tell me
Just who do you think you are
Mr
and make somebody's day
'Cause someone took the time with him
He believes it's the little things
That make a great big change
Hey Mr. Lovewell
Doing
bang
Big bang, bi-big bang
It's gettin' bigger by the second
Check it
OK, I'm here to rock the tugboat and bare the others farewell
I shook
back up to this soldier boy and I said
"Soldier boy, is he, is Mr Garfield?" and he said, "Yeah, he's gone"
Gonna lay him by that cold lonesome branch
by bit
You made them cry,
Many poor girls cry
When they trying to keep you happy,
They just trying ta keep you satisfied
Chorus
Mr big stuff, (tell me
Mr. Big Stuff
Who do you think you are
Mr. Big Stuff
You're never gonna get my love
Mr. Big Stuff
Who do you think you are
Mr. Big Stuff
You're never
to fend for himself or by his own
Mr drug dealer
it's 1995, now that he's older stress weighs on his shoulders
Heavy as boulders, but he hides it
That's that big shit
And we all gettin' money
We can all get money
(Fuck these niggas talkin' 'bout?)
Fuck these niggas talkin' 'bout?
Million
(Oh yeah, ooh)
Mr. Big Stuff
Who do you think you are
Mr. Big Stuff
You're never gonna get my love
Now because you wear all those fancy
Oh, oh
Gucci! Whats happenin'
Gucci! Burr, burr, burr
On fire, you say you more fire then nigga you a lie
Homie you and I, know the trooper
Mrs. Parker can I chill in yo car
Mrs. Parker I don't even know her first name
Mrs. Parker she just wanna have fun
Let's Drive to Vegas
Get married by
I saw mommy kissing Santa
I couldn’t believe my eyes
His big red coat and bright white hair
I was taken by surprise
Oh, I saw mommy kissing Santa
His
Southern state digging I aint stopping for no trooper
Put them cats on your heels lace em up like it was puma
Big ole 40 clear a room we ain't
Filled with them blue things
And these hoes on my back like my Fendi
You niggas need to END the envy
And the troopers stop my car just to frisk me
Big
bag
This personal, but I smoke by the hashtag
I can bet the shit you smoking been sad
Come outta trash can
I told my roun to hit me, them raccs attached
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