"Guaranteed Raw" lyrics
(from "Notorious" soundtrack)
Chill Twan, damn man!
That nigga Big got something to say?
Yo Big, what you got to say big?
Yeah, yeah
Special shout-out to my man
MC Homicide and DJ Fatal
Twin one and two my man Milk
My man Fred Dawg, the O.G.B. crew
Y'all know how we flow
And I'ma drop it like this y'all
Oh what a feeling! Drivin' in my four by four
Girlies galore, B.I.G. on the door
Chrome trimming with the smoke tint
Givin' chumps a hint as I count my mint
Stacks of doves, half my man's is C-note
All from sayin' rhymes that B.I.G. wrote
Blunt, I take a toke, but only if it's weed
Skunk with no seeds, a sip of Hennessy
Pass to D or maybe movin' solo
Never with a skeezer by my side, that's a no-no
Tell me I ain't the fliest nigga that you ever saw
Live in action, guaranteed raw!
Who's coming through? Y'all know who! (Who?!)
Bed-Stuy Brooklyn where this rapper was originated
Your rhymes ain't shit; they must be constipated
Many awaited the heavyset brother from Fulton Street
To drop a rhyme to a funky beat
Expelling MCs as if I was at Sarah J
Or boys and girls at any school around the way
Opponents, pupils, but I'm the principal
Hard to beat, damn near invisible
Niggas wanna know, how I live the mack life
Making money smoking mics like crack pipes
Flippin' bombs, stayin' calm, givin' my people my palm
And sayin' rhymes is an opium bomb
Yes it's me, the B.I.G
Competition ripper ever since 13
Used to steal clothes, was considered a thief
Until I started hustlin' on Fulton Street
Makin' loot, knockin' boots on the regular
Pass the microphone I'm the perfect competitor
Jewels and all that, my clothes is all that
Chumps steppin' to me, that's where they took a fall at!
B.I.G. without burner, that's unheard of
I stay close to mine like Tina on Turner
Quick to smother a punk motherfucker
Undercover, word to mother, I'm above ya
And I love ya 'cause you're a sweet bitch
A crazy crab, ya might make my dick itch
I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used to
B.I.G. is a born, trooper
Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get lose to
Stay dipped and I'm not a booster
So what you got to say? This mackin' word is bond
There's no other assumption, I got it goin' on
I'm not conceited, my friends tell me this
Even my mother be noddin' her head to this
Makes her proud to see her one son get loud
Flip on a sucker and bow to the crowd
Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
Live in action, guaranteed raw
Round two the rhyme regulator here to roast ya
As ya follow this yeah, I gave a toast to ya crew
See, they popped on ya like a kernel
They didn't realize that the beef was eternal
Internal injury that's what you're soon to see
B.I.G. keeps company
Sometimes in my waist, if Jake come, I'm boatin'
Run upstairs, change my skimmer and my coat and
I'll be floatin' to your punk part of town
Anybody fronting, they better duck down
Don't get mad 'cause I grazed ya
You jumped in that 4-door Blazer, quick I couldn't get a good hit
Shit, I was aimin' for the melon
But the kick of my three-pound auto there's no tellin'
Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
Live in action, guaranteed raw!
And you don't stop, and you don't stop
You keep on
To my man Milk, and Thai
Like I said before the whole O.G.B. is in full effect
Most definitely
Sent a shout on
That nigga Big got something to say?
Yo Big, what you got to say big?
Yeah, yeah
Special shout-out to my man
MC Homicide and DJ Fatal
Twin one and two my man Milk
My man Fred Dawg, the O.G.B. crew
Y'all know how we flow
And I'ma drop it like this y'all
Oh what a feeling! Drivin' in my four by four
Girlies galore, B.I.G. on the door
Chrome trimming with the smoke tint
Givin' chumps a hint as I count my mint
Stacks of doves, half my man's is C-note
All from sayin' rhymes that B.I.G. wrote
Blunt, I take a toke, but only if it's weed
Skunk with no seeds, a sip of Hennessy
Pass to D or maybe movin' solo
Never with a skeezer by my side, that's a no-no
Tell me I ain't the fliest nigga that you ever saw
Live in action, guaranteed raw!
Who's coming through? Y'all know who! (Who?!)
Bed-Stuy Brooklyn where this rapper was originated
Your rhymes ain't shit; they must be constipated
Many awaited the heavyset brother from Fulton Street
To drop a rhyme to a funky beat
Expelling MCs as if I was at Sarah J
Or boys and girls at any school around the way
Opponents, pupils, but I'm the principal
Hard to beat, damn near invisible
Niggas wanna know, how I live the mack life
Making money smoking mics like crack pipes
Flippin' bombs, stayin' calm, givin' my people my palm
And sayin' rhymes is an opium bomb
Yes it's me, the B.I.G
Competition ripper ever since 13
Used to steal clothes, was considered a thief
Until I started hustlin' on Fulton Street
Makin' loot, knockin' boots on the regular
Pass the microphone I'm the perfect competitor
Jewels and all that, my clothes is all that
Chumps steppin' to me, that's where they took a fall at!
B.I.G. without burner, that's unheard of
I stay close to mine like Tina on Turner
Quick to smother a punk motherfucker
Undercover, word to mother, I'm above ya
And I love ya 'cause you're a sweet bitch
A crazy crab, ya might make my dick itch
I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used to
B.I.G. is a born, trooper
Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get lose to
Stay dipped and I'm not a booster
So what you got to say? This mackin' word is bond
There's no other assumption, I got it goin' on
I'm not conceited, my friends tell me this
Even my mother be noddin' her head to this
Makes her proud to see her one son get loud
Flip on a sucker and bow to the crowd
Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
Live in action, guaranteed raw
Round two the rhyme regulator here to roast ya
As ya follow this yeah, I gave a toast to ya crew
See, they popped on ya like a kernel
They didn't realize that the beef was eternal
Internal injury that's what you're soon to see
B.I.G. keeps company
Sometimes in my waist, if Jake come, I'm boatin'
Run upstairs, change my skimmer and my coat and
I'll be floatin' to your punk part of town
Anybody fronting, they better duck down
Don't get mad 'cause I grazed ya
You jumped in that 4-door Blazer, quick I couldn't get a good hit
Shit, I was aimin' for the melon
But the kick of my three-pound auto there's no tellin'
Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
Live in action, guaranteed raw!
And you don't stop, and you don't stop
You keep on
To my man Milk, and Thai
Like I said before the whole O.G.B. is in full effect
Most definitely
Sent a shout on
Writer(s): Christopher Wallace, Mark James, Nathaniel Philip Hall, Michael Benton Small
