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the notorious b.i.g. - grab my gun lyrics
[hook:]
grab the 9,2 clips and run a muck!
so i grab my gun
a fist-full of bullets,a chest full of teflon
nowhere to run,so i grab my gun!
[biggie]
i’m sticking ice picks on the tip of your d-ck
give your t-st-cl-s a swift kick ain’t that some sh-t
am i hard-hardcore harder than the plymouth
it ain’t no myth. it’s a n-gga with a spliff
and a chrome four-fifth pressed on yo back
so what you want n-gga?
how you wanna act?
i’m uncivilized cause i love to see n-ggas die
brains all leaking out on the street
and the pastor preaching: he was a good man
played the bad man when the burner was in his hand
now he’s singing sad songs with elvis
three to the head, ’bout six cross the pelvis
you f-ck with the high die you die
you’re the same motherf-cker
if you look up in the sky
i want some old nex sh-t
suplex sh-t
hardcore s-x sh-t
[hook:]
grab the 9, 2 clips and run a muck!
so i grab my gun
a fist-full of bullets,a chest full of teflon
nowhere to run,so i grab my gun!
[biggie]
a repet-tive loop all i need to display
solo is the proof i put it to you boy
hope you got the scoop
biggie smalls the rap g*nius
i keep the glock by the p-n-s
the cleanest cut f-ck sl-ts
with the big humongous b-tts
i used to rub a b-tt
my style is gucci like the hookers p-ssy
and it don’t take a lot of back talk
to push me into flamin ’em
like that little n-gga damien
glock 19 to my motherf-cking cranium
gang-thight gun toting motherf-cker
n-ggas in they brains thought biggie was a sucker
i tricked ’em, i gave ’em work then i sticked ’em
i stripped ’em, cause n-ggas dont want the friction
told you before how i bring the drama
slaying larry johnson and his grand mama!
[hook:]
grab the 9,2 clips and run a muck!
so i grab my gun
a fist-full of bullets,a chest full of teflon
nowhere to run,so i grab my gun!
[biggie]
f-ck around and feel the fury of a high n-gga when i get busy, throw ya hands in the sky n-gga i got the illest of the ill mentality
n-ggas be grabbing me, knowing that they rather be stabbing me
all up in my back, try’na take my track
when i used to sell crack i ain’t had problems like that
street rules, watch your pockets and your jewels
a n-gga front throw a gat to the fool next one to move is getting blasted
streets to a flows from the ill ghetto b-st-rd
as i release master piece it’s like indecent
stuck to your -ss like tissue when you’re wiping fast
mc’s have a hard time believin’
i’m marked with death hard to k!ll like steven
with jacob i’m leavin’ the black man’s motto: “you got a better chance playing lotto”
[hook:]
grab the 9,2 clips and run a muck!
so i grab my gun
a fist-full of bullets, a chest full of teflon
nowhere to run, so i grab my gun!
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