| Yeah, ninety-six, for my Nordstrom Ave niggaz
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| My Fulton Street niggaz (hardcore for ninety-six)
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| Dangerous MC’s.
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| Uhh (check it out) uhh
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| Diamonds on my neck, chrome drop-top
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| Chillin on the scene, smokin pounds of green
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| Oooh-wee, you see, the ugliest
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| Money-hungriest, Brooklyn Loch Ness
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| Nine millimeter cock test, wan fi’test?
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| And the winner is.
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| Y’all niggaz know the rules
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| I blast on niggaz so --
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| -- my fist never bruise
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| Land-still-cruise, Frank White paid his dues
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| Ask who’s the raw, bet they say Poppa very
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| Look forward to me like commissary
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| All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie
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| Done did it, come widdit, get yo’head splitted
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| or get your neck slitted, admit it, you overdid it Your shit it, just ain’t got that LOUD
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| Gold tooth shine like TA-DOW!
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| Biggie Smalls the illest and how, frays raise your eyebrow
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| By now you figure, he talkin bout that nigga
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| but your weak-ass assumptions, lead led to dumpin
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| IV to pump-in, you’re feeling something
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| Catch my drift, or catch my four-fifth lift
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| at least six inches, above project fences
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| Turn meat to minces, jokes turn to flinches
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| When I rain I drenches, cleared your park benches (HAH)
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| Missed you by pinches (HOO) your talk is senseless (RRUFF)
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| Actor needs chiropractor (HAH, HOO) for cracked jaw
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| Yes I rocked your cheddar box (hah)
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| Dangerous you’re not I gets down (HOO)
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| Twist your body round and round, upside down
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| Chorus: Busta Rhymes
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| C’mon, yo, throw your hands c’mon
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| Bitch grab your tits c’mon
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| Let me know you in the spot
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| Bump your fists, c’mon
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| Thugs tote yo’shit
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| we bout to get mo’rich, c’mon
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| Let’s blow the club, c’mon
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| Fuck the place up, c’mon
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| Shake yo’nasty ass
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| and make it swing all around, c’mon
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| Yo, make this money
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| throw yo’loot on the ground, c’mon
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| Bounce in your whips, c’mon
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| Bitch lick yo’lips, c’mon
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| Dangerous MC’s
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| My nigga this be the shit, c’mon
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| Dangerous MC’s
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| My nigga this be the shit, c’mon
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| Uh-huh, make money hand over fist
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| The bo-vines roam where chickenhearts don’t exist
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| Settin up shop, it’s hands on in the hustle
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| Fakes don’t kill nuttin but time and don’t tussle
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| The process of elimination, fresh rotation
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| come and go and they death be starvation
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| In the heat of battle it’s no rest for the weary
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| Snooze and you lose is the theory
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| The theory of a patient man, is wild beyond belief
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| Be afraid, you don’t want beef with us chief
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| Your talk is cheap and the supply meets demand
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| Everything you can imagine is real man
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| and revenge be the dish I serve to cats cold
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| Stay up on about ten folds, you know how it goes
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| You know the streets and it’s real as shit, c’mon
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| Niggaz grab your dicks, c’mon
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| Bitches rub your tits, c’mon
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| Chorus (minus last two lines)
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| Awww nah, big Snoop Dogg
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| Slap you with my paw, all across your jaw
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| Break fool on these bitches while I’m breakin the law
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| You come up in my room look bitch you takin it off
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| Follow me, I slip em slide em rip em ride em provide em with that West coast G shit, L.B.C. |
| shit
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| We dips to this, make chips to this
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| and buy brand new whips and shit, uh-huh (beyotch)
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| I bet you didn’t know that yo’bitch was suckin dick (say what?)
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| Who you think she fuckin with? |
| (what?)Look here
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| My, Eastside lifestyle is way foul, move the crowd
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| Point a pistol at you bitch niggas, BLA-DOW
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| . |
| How you like me now? |
| (what what, what?)
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| You got stuck and fucked, Doggystyle
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| 100 spokes Day-tonas, bendin the corner
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| all up in Crooklyn, bad bitches are lookin
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| Chorus (minus last two lines)
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| So you lovin us so much this shit is bleedin through you
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| If I worked in a resteraunt
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| I’d shit in the food and feed it to you
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| Most of my niggaz cuckoo, easy to gas to shoot you
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| Even all of them Haitian niggaz
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| won’t believe this voodoo
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| Can yo’pussy be chaka, don’t let me speak in pat-ois
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| and kick you in your face like we playin a game of soc-cer
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| I love to cock the glock-a, stack up on loot and vod-ka
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| And fuck your crew because all of y’all niggaz full of ca-ca
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| The way we doin damage tell me how the FUCK you manage
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| with my niggaz who marinate on foul thoughts and think savage
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| Them niggaz’ll throw you in a manhole
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| and push they hand in yo’ass
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| and pull yo’head right out yo’asshole!
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| Parkay nigga we rugged all day nigga
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| You ready to fuck bitch? |
| Fuck the foreplay nigga
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| This me for all consumers, my nigga FUCK the rumors
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| Three in the worst way of pure coke for all you DRUG ABUSERS
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| Chorus (minus last two lines)
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| Chorus (fades out) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dangerous MC's , by - The Notorious B.I.G.. Song from the album Born Again, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп