“The What”
(feat. Method Man)
Now I throw shields on the dick to stop me from that HIV shit
And niggas know they soft like a Twinkie filling
Playing the villain, prepare for this rap killing
Biggie Smalls is the illest, your style is played out
Like Arnold on that, “What you talking ’bout, Willis?”
The thrill is gone, the Black Frank White
Is here to excite and throw dick to dykes
Bitches I like ’em brainless, guns I like ’em stainless steel
I want the fucking fortune like the Wheel
I squeeze gats ’til my clips is empty
Don’t tempt me, you don’t want to fuck with the M-E
…T-H-O-D Man, here I am
I’ll be damned if this ain’t some shit
Come to spread the butter lyrics over hominy grit
It’s the low killer death trap, yes I’m a jet-black ninja
Coming where you rest at, surrender
Step inside the ring, you’s the number one contender
Looking cold-booty like your pussy in December
Nigga, stop bitching, button up your lip and
From Method all you getting is a can of ass-whipping
Hey, I’ll be kicking you son, you doing all the yapping
Acting as if it can’t happen
Your frontin’ got me mad enough to touch something
Yo, I’m from Shaolin Island and ain’t afraid to bust something
So what you want nigga? You won’t nigga
I got a 6-shooter and a horse named Trigger
It’s real, ’94 rugged-raw
Kickin’ down your goddamn door
And it goes a little something like this
Fuck the world, don’t ask me for shit
Everything you get you gotta work hard for it
(Honeys shake your hips) You don’t stop
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on, bitch
Verse two, coming with that Olde E brew
Meth-tical, putting niggas back in ICU
I’m lifted, troop, you can bring your wack-ass crew
I got connections, I’ll get that ass stuck like glue
Huh, no question, I be coming down and shit
Yo I gets rugged as a motherfucking carpet get
And niggas love it, not in the physical form but in the mental
I spark and their cells get warm
I’m not a gentleman, I’m a Method Man
Baby accept it, utmost respect it, and
(Assume the position) Stop look and listen
I spit on your grave then I grab my Charles Dickens, bitch
Welcome to my center, honeys feel it deep in their placenta
Cold as the pole in the winter
Far from the inventor, but I got this rap shit sewed
And when my MAC unloads
I’m guaranteed another video
Ready to die, why I act that way?
Pop duke left mom duke, the faggot took the back way
So instead of making hoes suck my dick up
I used to do stick-ups, ’cause hoes is irritating like the hiccups
Excuse me, flows just grow through me
Like trees to branches, cliffs to avalanches
It’s the praying mantis, deep like the mind of Farrakhan
A motherfucking rap phenomenon, plus
(I got more Glocks and TECs than you)
I make it hot, (niggas won’t even stand next to you)
Nigga touch me you better bust me three times in the head
Or motherfucker’s dead, you thought so
Fuck the world, don’t ask me for shit
And everything you get you gotta work hard for it
(Honeys shake your hips) You don’t stop
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on, bitch
Fuck the world, don’t ask me for shit
Everything you get you gotta work hard for it
(Honeys shake your hips) You don’t stop
(And niggas pack the clips) Keep on, bitch
Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique in full effect (Yeah, what the fuck you want, nigga?)
Ah, yeah, hell yeah (Biggie Smalls and Meth-tical)
Bedford–Stuyvesant the livest one (9-4 coming at you raw)
My borough is thorough (Shaolin Island, yeah)
Recognize (Yeah)
About The Notorious B.I.G. Lyrics
Artist: The Notorious B.I.G.
Related Songs: Fuck Me (Interlude) Lyrics
Album: : Ready to Die
Release date: September 13, 1994
Label: Bad Boy Records
Length: 69:05
Studio: The Hit Factory and D&D Studios, New York City
Genres: Hip hop music, Gangsta rap, East Coast hip hop, Funk, Hardcore hip hop, Pop rap, Rap music