Lyrics:
Yeah, yeah, I love Math
Yeah, yo, yo
y'all ain't never stopping the kid, why y'all knocking the King?
Would ya like a shot of liquor or like a shot
Hey yo, we got blocks and glocks with
Big shots with big knots and big props
Yo this is where the bullshit stops
Where herbs get got, if you snitch
is hirin'
You shoulda been a cop, cause you snitch a lot
Talkin' to the jakes, you bound to get shot
I used to watch Big Bird and Scooby Doo
Now
fight, yeah
Who shot who and who fired first?
Dripping death to wet the blood thirst
No radar lock on skin and bone
The bomber boys are going home
principle Gang, is gettin bigger
Sayin peace to the Heavster rollin with a buncha niggas
[Chorus]
[Biggie Smalls/Notorious B.I.G.]
I bring drama like ya
Who could be the boss? Look up to the cross
Stranded in the land of the lost
Standin' up, I'm sideways
I'm blazin' up the path, runnin'
Oh
I know it wasn't much to ya
But you dressed it up so pretty, didn't you?
Wouldn't get caught up and lately I'm seein' right through ya
By
that.
I move blocks to rude pops and dude drops.
I'm too hot mix J Big and tupac.
So move not I'm way big and dude shot.
Ya crew watch I'm hot bitch
If truly be in God we trust
But must we stand for the lust
To make our ducs and live
Big up Rauf-Move ona Move
Ya dig
Revolution
kicked the bass like an NFL punter
And scoped the booty like a big game hunter
I said to the girl, "Yo, you look tired
Let's go get some rest, relax by
the Big Bow Wizzow, you know I'm on the pusszow
Doggy stizyle, that make ya kitty cat meow
(Meow!)
Dick deep, freak-a-leek, fuck some sleep
And don't tell
Who could be the boss? Look up to the cross
Stranded in the land of the lost
Standin' up, I'm sideways
I'm blazin' up the path, runnin'
straight up, I can't knock ya
After Big Poppa, fuck all of Junior M.A.F.I.A.
The whole clique, dick sucked, ass licked
Leave your number by the phone,
you was a tough guy? (Boom!)
When I put one right in ya head, now tell me what you think you is now
(A top dollar biller, a rottweiler, a killer)
in black
I'm to the dope track to get the dope sack
Blowin', it's Mr bill Clinton of Vallejo
California with no warnin' shots
Just thought I'd warn ya
his record to sell
My back shots 'll help Ashanti hit them high notes
And Big been taught Charli B'More to deep throat (yea)
I just wanna love ya
the game
It's all in the game who in the hall of fame
Who read in the game
NBA live homie is a glide of rain
It's big snoop dogg to the hoop dog
Get Live
was laid
Now we moanin' and groanin' screamin' and hollin'
All them super top notches, yeah, you'll see who they followin'
Big Dog will make you open
I push a armored car wit enormous hearts
Nineteen inches, I'm not on the charts
Doc turnin' dark off a warning shot
Drive off and pop, six in ya
everybody your thong
[Tray Dee Eastsidaz]
Booyaka booyaka we bring it straight to ya
From 22's to luger's the shit that shoot through ya
Who you
everybody your thong
[Tray Dee Eastsidaz]
Booyaka booyaka we bring it straight to ya
From 22's to Luger's the shit that shoot through ya
Who you
the beat, all still riding with ya
Party by the big riders, still siding with ya
Party by the real niggas still hustling to ya
I know you're here in
to twelve o'clock
Rollin in a undercover huntin for a IRoc
Let's hit the spot and find them hoes who tried to cap ya
Were they killers, yeah, or were they
back window with a bubble in the middle
Who's car is it? Posse won't say
We all play it off when you look our way
Rollin' four deep, tires smoke up
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