Intro: repeat 2X This goes out to you This goes out to you and you and you and you Verse One: Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns As I crush so called willies thugs and rapper dons Get in that ass quick fast like Romma Don Its that rap phenomenon Don Dadda fuck Poppa You got ta call me Francis M.H. White In tank light totes tote eyein Was told in shootout Stay low, and keep firin Keep extra clips for extra shit Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rack The mo shady, cranky baby Ain't no tellin where I may be May see me in DC at Howard Homes Comin, with my man Capone, Dummin, fuckin somethin You should know my stilo Went from 10 G's for blow to 30 Gs a show To orgies with hoes I never seen before So, Jesus, get off the Notorious penis before I squeeze and bust If theres beef between us We can settle it With that chrome-metal shit I make it hot, like a kettle get You're delicate, you better get Who sent ya? You're still peddle shit I got more rides than Great Adventure Biggie Chorus: repeat 4X Kick in the door wavin the four-four All you heard was poppa don't hit no more Verse Two: On ya mark, get set when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get When ya marked with death Should I start ya breath Or should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why Lyrically, I'm worser Don't front the word sick You cursed it, but rehearsed it I drop unexpectedly like bird shit You perps get, stuck quickly for raw tease and show money Don't forget the publishin I punish em I'm done with them Son, I'm surprised you run with them I think they got cum in them Cuz they, nothin but dicks Tryin to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks Man I smoke hydro rock diamonds, thats sick Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own clique Take trips to Cairo, layin with yo bitch I know you prayin you was rich Fuckin prick When I see ya I'ma Chorus Verse Three: This goes out to those that choose to use Disrespectful view on the King of NY Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in ya eye Now ya Braille'in it, stash that light shit Or scalin it Conscience of ya nonsense in 88, Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson Tote steel like Bronson Vigilante You wanna get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other king in this rap thing They siblings Nothing but maturin, one shot, they disappearin Its ill when, MC's used to be on crazy shit Took home, Ready To Die, listen, study shit Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly Make the white shake, thats why my money never funny And you still recoupin, stupid
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Copy to Clipboard: Intro: repeat 2X This goes out to you This goes out to you and you and you and you Verse One: Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns As I crush so called willies thugs and rapper dons Get in that ass quick fast like Romma Don Its that rap phenomenon Don Dadda fuck Poppa You got ta call me Francis M.H. White In tank light totes tote eyein Was told in shootout Stay low, and keep firin Keep extra clips for extra shit Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rack The mo shady, cranky baby Ain't no tellin where I may be May see me in DC at Howard Homes Comin, with my man Capone, Dummin, fuckin somethin You should know my stilo Went from 10 G's for blow to 30 Gs a show To orgies with hoes I never seen before So, Jesus, get off the Notorious penis before I squeeze and bust If theres beef between us We can settle it With that chrome-metal shit I make it hot, like a kettle get You're delicate, you better get Who sent ya? You're still peddle shit I got more rides than Great Adventure Biggie Chorus: repeat 4X Kick in the door wavin the four-four All you heard was poppa don't hit no more Verse Two: On ya mark, get set when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get When ya marked with death Should I start ya breath Or should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why Lyrically, I'm worser Don't front the word sick You cursed it, but rehearsed it I drop unexpectedly like bird shit You perps get, stuck quickly for raw tease and show money Don't forget the publishin I punish em I'm done with them Son, I'm surprised you run with them I think they got cum in them Cuz they, nothin but dicks Tryin to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks Man I smoke hydro rock diamonds, thats sick Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own clique Take trips to Cairo, layin with yo bitch I know you prayin you was rich Fuckin prick When I see ya I'ma Chorus Verse Three: This goes out to those that choose to use Disrespectful view on the King of NY Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in ya eye Now ya Braille'in it, stash that light shit Or scalin it Conscience of ya nonsense in 88, Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson Tote steel like Bronson Vigilante You wanna get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other king in this rap thing They siblings Nothing but maturin, one shot, they disappearin Its ill when, MC's used to be on crazy shit Took home, Ready To Die, listen, study shit Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly Make the white shake, thats why my money never funny And you still recoupin, stupid
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