Why niggas wanna clock me?
Like that dance called the Tati
Dont they know I break motherfuckers into parts like Rocky
Part I, part II, part III, niggas cant fuck with me
My styles knock-kneed plum crazy 
Whos that wild ass motherfucker catchin wreck
Stickin Jamaicans for sound sets outside discotheques
Its 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? MCs get broke like speed limits 
Niggas cant fuck with my metaphors
Canin MCs like they in Singapore; Klep been through more wars
Than Gump or Shore, put together catchin leathers
On the regular, got that net, push me round and Dread stressin a
Trick ho, what the Dread wont know wont hurt
Robbin his workers for they work; now, WHOSE TURF IS THIS?
Its Kleps, the clothes wreckers
Life interceptor, pussy collector
Got your bitch on my dick and I aint even stressin her
Check enough sex in her, my styles irregular
Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the settlers
Niggas say Oh my lord!
Throw gats to Giuliani
Flows tighter than pigeon 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, niggas split like bananas
Flavor like Tropicana; orange, mango, peach
I strangle each -- negro for they dough
Niggas get to bendin, got two cases, one pendin
560 V-12 engine, women spinnin
In 929 Mazdas, Tammy and Natasha
The ménage à trois around my way
Like Ill and Al Skratch smokin 50 sacks in the back of Acs
Windows cracked, so sit back relax
Yo Vec, crush the hash, the Berettas 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 hearts the way to wealth
Indecisive thoughts make sentences get dealt
Money makes the world go round, robbin shit
Fuck a job shit, niggas 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, thats how we roll 
Rhymes now tight as hell so to the bank I stroll 
Money on my mind, open lips from my eyes
Reveal pupils shaped like dollar signs --
-- the world is mine!
Niggas frontin, feelin twelve gauge pellets
B.I.G. is repellent, to all that He say, she say
We play, Russian roulette, fuck the threat
Your whole crews vagina, you and your co-signer
Nigga, we rollin in eight and a halfs, TVs in the dash
Three Gs in the stash, see we love the cash
More coke to make some more
Niggas say Oh my lord!
Niggas dont know bout my game, they dont 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 niggas 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 
B.I.G. for President, buckin shots past the spleen
9 millimeter dream, MAC-11 nightmares
Electric chairs, which MCs do you fear?
Big Poppa, Junior M.A.F.I.A., nuff said
Niggas disrespect just are dead...