Well its the Funk Docta Spock..
Meth-Tical..
Biggie.. Biggie.. 
Uhh.. uhh.. uhh.. uhh..
Fuck that, I preach it, my nine reaches
The prestigious, cats that speak this, Willie shit
Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
Smack ya cabbage, half-ass rappers, shouldnt have it
So I grab it, never run, the outcome
Is usually, a beatdown brutally, fuck who you be
Or where youre from, West or East Coast, squeeze toast
Leave most in the blood they layin in, what, what?
The rings and things you sing about, bring em out
Its hard to yell when the barrels in your mouth
Its more than I expected, I thought your jewels was rented
But they wasnt, so run it, cousin
I could chill, the heat doesnt
Ran up in your shell about a dozen, you never see bank like Frank White
Your hand clutchin, your chest-plate contemplate
You bout to die, nigga wait, keep yo hands high
Yo.. yo yo
I dont brown nose out of town hoes
Im up around fo with the crowbar to the five point oh
I get bagged, Im John Doe, suspect
You ass like prime roastin, Calvin Klein clothes
Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear
Im out there, I bought it with George Jetson here
Your time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trusting niggas since Gotti got caught
Its Bricks, keep your wrist covered, Im piss colored
By the waist got a gun as dark as Kris brother
I.C.U., my sheisty crew, like ice me too
I break your legs, leave your eyes slightly blue
The Doc was born with a grenade palm
Im concurrent in your hood like a, teenage mom
Yo Biggie She havin my bay-bayy
If I pull out the A.K., keep your hands high
This rule is so underrated
Actin as if it cant happen, youre frontin
Aint no other kings in this rap thing
Biggie, a motherfuckin rap phenomenon
This rule is so underrated
Actin as if it cant happen, youre frontin
Aint no other kings in this rap thing
Biggie, a motherfuckin rap phenomenon
Uhh, uhh
I got a new mouth to feed, Im due South with keys
Yall pick seeds out yall weed, I watch cowards bleed
Motherfucker please, its my block with my rocks
Fuck that hip-hop, them one-twos, and you dont stops
Me and my nigga Lance, took Kim and Cease advance
Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants
From Branson, now we lampin, twelve room mansion
Bitches get naked off Get Money, Players Anthem
Dont forget, One More Chance and my other hits, other shit
Niggas spit be counterfeit, robbery come naturally
In and out like fuckin rapidly, pass the gat to me
Make his chest rest, where his back should be, talkin blasphemy
Blastin me, your family, rest in coffins often
Frank Wizzah, far from soft or fragilla
Play hard like Reggie Miller, rapper, slash dope dealer
Slash guerilla, slash illest turned iller
Now now
Dont approach me with that rah rah shit, you out of pocket
I take these adolescents back to Spofford
Mentally, my energy, is like a figure eight, on its side, thats infinity
Too many sick niggas, nickel nines bring the remedy
When you play the field, whats the penalty?
Unnecessary roughness, career endin injuries for suckers
Stuck on stupid, shoot em with a dart like Cupid
Until they got love for my music
Star Wars, Im Han Solo, with three egos
And three charges, I got to See-three-P.O.s
This is whoop-yo-ass-day, the sequel
High bar flow-er with no equal
Niggas swingin swords in the WAR, thats my people
Sho nuff, before I roll up, this is a hold up
Hands high, reach for the sky
I rep S.I., the unpretty, word to Left Eye
New York Shitty, put they weight on it
And who better for the job than Biggie?
The Notorious, Jeee-zus, Unbelievable rhyme that reaches
And touch individual, small frame buck and change
MC, Whats-Your-Name, tuck your chain
All about the fortune, fuck the fame, labels still extortin
Kick me when Im down, but Im up again, scorchin
Hot — forcin my way up in the door
To kill the bullshit like a matador
Keep your hands high