The Notorious B.I.G. - 01. Guaranteed Raw [Three Song Demo, 1991] | Текст песни

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• The Notorious B.I.G.
• 01. Guaranteed Raw [Three Song Demo, 1991]

[Intro]
Chill Twan, damn man!
That nigga Big got somethin to say?
Yo Big, what'chu got to say Big?

[Notorious B.I.G.]
Yeah... yeah...
Special shoutout 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 hit, as I count my mint
Stacks of doves, half my mans 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 flyest nigga that you ever saw
Live in action, guaranteed RAW~!

"Who's coming through? Y'all know 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
Expellin MC's 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 invincible
Niggaz wanna know, how I live the mack life
Makin money smokin mics like crack pipes
Flippin bombs, stayin calm, givin my people my palm
and sayin rhymes to set off the alarm!
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, you might make my dick itch
I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used ta
B.I.G. is a born, trooper
Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get loose ta
Stay pimp, and I'm not a booster
So what'cha 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
You didn't realize that the beef was eternal
Internal injury that's what you're soon to see
B.I.G. keep company
Sometimes in my waist, if they come opponent
Run upstairs, change my skimmer and my coat and
I'm floatin, to your punk part of town
Anybody frontin, 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

[Outro]
Most definitely
Sent a shout on
To the freestyle Born Allah
Yeah that bum-ass nigga from Avenue Q
(Yeah yeah)


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