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the notorious b.i.g. - dead wrong (original version) lyrics
[hook]
the weak or the strong, who got it going on?
you’re dead wrong
the weak or the strong, who got it going on?
you’re dead wrong
[verse 1]
relax and take notes while i take tokes of the marijuana smoke
throw you in a choke, gun smoke, gun smoke
biggie smalls for mayor, the rap slayer
the hooker layer, motherf-cker say your prayers
“hail mary, full of grace”
smack the b-tch in the face, take her gucci bag
and the north face off her back, jab her if she act
funny with the money, oh you got me mistaken, honey
i don’t wanna rape ya, i just want the paper
the visa, kapeesha? i’m out like the vapors
who’s the one you call mr. macho
the head honcho, swift fist like camacho
i got so much style i should be down with the stylistics
“make up to break up” n-ggas need to wake up
smell the indonesia, beat you to a seizure
then f-ck your moms, hit the skins to amnesia
she don’t remember sh-t, just the two hits
her hitting the floor and me hitting the cl-t
sucking on the t-ts, had the hooker begging for the d-ck
and your moms ain’t ugly, love, my d-ck got rock quick
i guess i was a combination of house of pain and bobby brown
i was humping around and jumping around
jacked her then i asked her, “who’s the man?” she said, “b-i-g”
then i bust in her e-y-e (yo big, you’re dead wrong)
[hook]
[verse 2]
check the pain i inflict, like a convict, the fulton digger
jump in the acura vigor, after i stick ya
rip ya like a razor, straight up henny with no chaser
watch me erase ya, misplace ya
put you in the back with the derelicts, yeah, i pop plenty sh-t
chump, i’m making hits, no time for the crack rock and sh-t
took it to another level
now i’m getting crazy papes, getting paid from the devils
another amateur trying to damage the pedigree
of the b-i-g-g-i-e, you know it’s me
hoes, i thought you know i’m smooth as a baby’s -ss
smooth as teddy pendergr-ss, smoke the gr-ss, get in your -ss
the brooklyn-born teflon don, wrecking shop
getting props, proving n0body drops
words as potent as the blunt smoking bed-stuy bandit
and n-ggas just can’t understand it
i bust a cap for the brothers in nap nap, comstock, and clinton
you know my sh-t is hitting
yeah, ya’ll, a fly n-gga, biggie smalls
kicking flavor, make a n-gga wanna dig up in their drawers
for the burner, catch a body, i got styles like karate
jiu-jitsu, when i hit you then i split you
like a cantaloupe, hope you got a rope to hang yourself
i rob for self; from brooklyn, where else?
fat like a lexus coupe, i ripped your troop
not even lois lane could get the scoop
what you think, i’m stupid? my crew is mad deep
i hope you n-ggas sleep, huh, yo, big, you’re dead wrong
[hook]
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