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