Why niggaz wanna clock me?   Like that dance called the Chachi   Don't they know I break motherfuckers into parts like Rocky   Part I, part II, part III, niggaz can't fuck with me   My style's knock-kneed plum crazy   (What?)      Who's that wild ass motherfucker catchin' wreck   Stickin' Jamaicans for sound sets outside discoteques   It's Klep the death specialist, Stallone and Stone shit   Stayin' high representin for the nine-quint   Ras bad guy, burns the house down like Left Eye      Why try mimic? MC's get broke like speed limits   (Uhh)   Niggaz can't fuck with my metaphors   Canin MC's like they in Singapore Klep   Been through more wards than Humphrey Shore   Put together catchin' leathers      On the regular, got that net, push me round and Dread   Stressin' a trick hoe, what the Dread won't know won't hurt   Robbin' his workers for they work, now, whose turf is this?   It's Klep's, the clothes wreckers'      Life interceptor, pussy collector   Got your bitch on my dick and I ain't even stressin' her   Check enough sex in her, my styles are regular   Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the senator      Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"      Throw gats to Guiliani   Flows tighter than bitches Punani, try me, die G   Dangerous, since my daddy bust me out   The tip of his dick, Biggie Smalls with the wickedest shit   Spit clips, niggaz split like bananas      Flavour like Tropicana, orange, mango, peach   I strangle each negro for they dough   Niggaz get to bendin', got two cases, one pendin'   560 V-12 engine, women spinnin'   In 9-2-9 Mazda's, Tammy and Natasha      The menage-a-trois around my waist   Like Ill and Al Skratch smokin' 50 sacks in the back of Ac's   Windows cracked, so sit back relax   Yo Vec, crush the hash, the Beretta's in the stash      Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"   Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"   Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"   Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"      What you doin' with yourself? Stone heart's the way to wealth   Indecisive thoughts make sentences get dealt   Money makes the world go round, robbin' shit   Fuck a job shit, niggaz want cribs, bricks and spliffs   All-wheel automobiles, traction control      For clay roads, rollin' with dough, kickin' game   On the cell with bitches on hold, that's how we roll   (Uhh)   Rhymes got tight as hell so to the bank I stroll   (Uhh)   Money on my mind, open lips from my eyes   Reveal pupils shaped like dollar signs      The world is mine   Niggaz frontin', feelin' twelve gauge pellets   BIG is repellant, to all that, "He say, she say"   We play, Russian roulette, fuck the threat      Your whole crew's vagina, you and your co-signer   Nigga, we rollin' in eight and a halfs, TV's in the dash   Three G's in the stash, see we love the cash   No coke, then get some more      Niggas say, "Oh my Lord"      Niggaz don't know 'bout my game   They don't know how complex it is   Baggin' bitches in GS 300 Lexuses   And the sex is for summer sports      Passports for drug transports to remote resorts   Bitches with Donna Karan, "Catwoman" suits, matchin' figure boots   Haircut cute, on tops and garters like prostitutes   My lyrics explicit   Got bitches bringin' they own condoms on the first visit      If Biggie bring big bowls of beef   Backin' bitch niggaz down, burners bring bundles of belief   Common thief, slash drug chief, syndicated   Went from 10 K to 24 K and motherfuckers hate it   J.M. sedated, quarantined   (Uhh)      B.I.G for President, buckin' shots past the spleen   9 millimeter dream, Mac 11 nightmares   Electric chairs, which MC's do you fear?   Big Poppa, Junior M.A.F.I.A., nuff said   Niggaz disrespect just are dead