Biggie/Tupac Live Freestyle Funkmaster Flex & Big Kap (Ft. 2Pac & The Notorious B.I.G.)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Biggie/Tupac Live Freestyle" by Funkmaster Flex & Big Kap (Ft. 2Pac & The Notorious B.I.G.). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G.]
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
We gonna do it like this
Anytime you're ready, check it
[Verse 1: The Notorious B.I.G.]
I got seven MAC-11's, about eight 38's
Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's, the shits never ends
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
That's how I got the weedspot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MC's the runs drippin' when I throw my clip in
The AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flow's remarkable, peace to Mateo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God, I'm dropping shit, like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin', smacking babies at they christenin'
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
Where Brooklyn at? Where Brooklyn at?
We gonna do it like this
Anytime you're ready, check it
[Verse 1: The Notorious B.I.G.]
I got seven MAC-11's, about eight 38's
Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's, the shits never ends
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
That's how I got the weedspot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Little Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MC's the runs drippin' when I throw my clip in
The AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flow's remarkable, peace to Mateo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniffed the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God, I'm dropping shit, like a pigeon
I hope you're listenin', smacking babies at they christenin'
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