It has to be Biggy no? The King of lyrics! Here's my favourite!!
They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus with the Texas license plates outta state
They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown
And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down
They even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in Florida
The fifth corridor -- -- call the coroner!
There's gonna be a lot of slow singin, and flower bringin if my burgular alarm starts ringin
Whatcha think all the guns is for?
All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door
And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour, the criminals, tryin to drop my decimals
Damn! Niggaz wanna stick my for my cream
And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem
It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha, see your picture
Now they wanna grab the guns and come and getcha
Betcha Biggie won't slip
I got the calico with the black talons loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put the fuckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul niggaz went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Fuck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck
I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains
of his jacket - he had a gun he shoulda packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
So I can reload and EXPLODE on ya rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore
C-4 to ya door no beef no more nigga
Feel the rough, scandalous
The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?
I'm not gunnin, nigga I bust my gun an'
hold on, I hear somebody comin...
Funny shit sorethroat!!
It has to be Biggy no? The King of lyrics! Here's my favourite!!
They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus with the Texas license plates outta state
They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown
And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down
They even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in Florida
The fifth corridor -- -- call the coroner!
There's gonna be a lot of slow singin, and flower bringin if my burgular alarm starts ringin
Whatcha think all the guns is for?
All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door
And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour, the criminals, tryin to drop my decimals
Damn! Niggaz wanna stick my for my cream
And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem
It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha, see your picture
Now they wanna grab the guns and come and getcha
Betcha Biggie won't slip
I got the calico with the black talons loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put the fuckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul niggaz went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Fuck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck
I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains
of his jacket - he had a gun he shoulda packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
So I can reload and EXPLODE on ya rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore
C-4 to ya door no beef no more nigga
Feel the rough, scandalous
The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?
I'm not gunnin, nigga I bust my gun an'
hold on, I hear somebody comin...