[Biggie smalls]
(Verse1)
Money, hoes, and clothes
Blunt smoke coming out the nose, is all a n***a knows
Flipping on foes, putting tags on toes
Watching the stash grow, clocking the cashflow
The neighborhood gravedigger
Getting paid so much, all the b**hes want to see a n***a
I guess they figure I'm paid, I want to get laid
Or since I got loot, I want to knock boots
I'd rather beat my dick than trick
And if she don't s**, then we don't f**
I'd rather make a buck, drive a fat-a** truck
Grab the 9, two clips, and run amuck
Yes, flex at the two or three Benzes
I wreck sh**, what the f** you expected?
A fly guy? Well f** it, I'm the high guy
From Bed-Stuy, putting the swelling on your eye
And your nose even; when I choke ya, you stop breathing
And when Jake come, I'm leaving
[Biggie smalls]
(Verse2)
When we smoke spliffs, we pack four-fifths
Just in case Dread want to riff
He get a free lift to the cemetary, rough very
Not your ordinary: we watch you get buried
That's a real n***a for ya
Get mad, do a quarter, flip the script, and rip your lawyer
Spit at the DA, cause f** what she say
She don't give a f** about your a** anyway
Back up chump, you know Biggie Smalls rips it quick
And kicks it quick; you know how black n***as get
With the hoods, fatigues with the boots with trees
Smokin weed, flippin ki's, making crazy G's
Hitting buckshots at n***as that open spots
On the avenue--take my loot, and I'm bagging you
Pimping hoes that drive Volvos and Rodeos
Flash the roll, make her wet in her pantyhose
Damn, a n***a's style is unorthodox
Grip the Glock, when I walk down the crowded blocks
Just in case a n***a want to act out
I just black out, and blow they motherf**ing back out
That's a real n***a for ya
[2pac]
(Verse3)
Im stuck in jail the DA's tryin' to burn me
I'd be out on bail, If I had a good attorney
Wanna label me a criminal and cuff me up
Got a pocket full of money so they rough me up
I ain't trippin' in the county and im mad as f**
Got a record so they put me with the baddest bunch
Everybody wanna talk cause im rappin'
They asking me what happend
Is it true you did a flick with Janet Jackson?
I can't sleep they taking polaroids
And im tryna' use the phone but they making noise
Man I wish I had my Glock cause its major
Im making shanks out the plastics in razors
These motherf**ers won't, leave me alone thats my word
'Bout to turn a violation to a motherf**ing murder
Im making collect calls to my old b**hes
Send mo' pictures, and make me some mo' riches
To all the s**ers on the block, talking sh** while I was locked up
Be prepared to be socked up
Cause the game is deep, and the fame is brief
And you bullsh**ting b**hes ain't changing me
I came straight up out of gutta' I was saved from hell
Im a thug I was raised in jail, now im out on bail