The Notorious B.I.G. - Gimme The Loot lyrics

[Intro:] Yeah. Motherf**ers 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? Motherf**ing 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 f**ing 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 n***a, you ain't got to explain sh** I've been robbing motherf**ers since the slave ships with the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherf**er's sure to die That's my word, n***a even try to bogart have his mother singing "It's so hard..." Yes, love love you're f**ing attitude because the n***a play p**y that's the n***a 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 b**hes too up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldn't give f** if you're pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant I'm slamming n***az like Shaquille, sh** is real When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal 'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me sh** so for the bread and bu*ter I leave n***az in the gutter Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous Crazier than a bag of f**ing Angel Dust When I bust my gat motherf**ers 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 n***az 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 sh**s is persistent Huh, goodness gracious the papers Where the cash at? Where the stash at? n***a, pa** that before you get your grave dug from the main thug, .357 slug And my n***a Biggie got an itchy one grip One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherf**ers better strip, yeah n***a peel before you find out how blue steel feel from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater The money getter motherf**ers don't have better Rolex watches and colourful Swatches I'm digging in pockets, motherf**ers can't stop it Man, n***az come through I'm taking high school rings too b**hes 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 b**h he can get robbed too Tell him Biggie took it, what the f** he gonna do? I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it and if I said it the co*ks**er 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 f**ing C.R.E.A.M and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream Hold up, he got a f**ing b**h 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 f**ing car keys and cruise up the block The b**h act shocked, getting shot on the spot (Oh sh**! The cops!) Be cool, fool They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is f**ing doughnuts (So why the f** he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking Oh sh**, now he looking in my face You better haul a** 'cos I ain't with no f**ing chase So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot A true motherf**er going out for the loot