[Produced by Easy Mo Bee]
[Verse 1: The Notorious B.I.G.]
I used to get feels on a bitch
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...
[Verse 2: Method Man & The Notorious B.I.G.]
...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
[Verse 1: The Notorious B.I.G.]
I used to get feels on a bitch
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...
[Verse 2: Method Man & The Notorious B.I.G.]
...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
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