Come On (Feat. Sadat X)

Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Let's go deep into the phrase, feel the sun rays Off the baldhead, everything is real Biggie put me on this joint, so I'mma be the big wheel Watch it spin, hey dad, placed your bet on seven Peace to 106, 108, 110 and 111th Hey Biggie, I understand you're from Brooklyn With 22s in your shoes, yo, keep this joint cooking Well, why not blow up the spot with Sadat Release the brainstorm, to make your motherfucking brain warm A strange form, something kind of lyrical Biggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritual Well, in God we trust, guns I bust Got that disgusting, sewer style dumping And, uh, do you know where you're going to Do you like the things that I bring Make an emcee wanna sing for a living Take the beatdown we fucking giving C'mon, motherfucker Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on What Niggas want drama, putting work on my block When I told y'all last week that shit was too hot Selling deuces and treys cuts my dimes Somebody don't get paid, somebody's block get sprayed Reaction is delayed as ya run down the block Caught one in your chest, your breath come in spurts Hey yo, Biggie, tell these niggas I'mma hit 'em where it hurts The Big City, it don't spare no bodies Call me papi chulo, to all the spanish mamis I'm about ten blunts down, drank three or four stouts Seen five fat asses, passed this bitch with glasses Hey, your money, that's your stock yo, bitch, pass the Glock I'mma tell them, It can happen, don't play me with that rap shit Life is real, so Biggie take the steel Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on I got seven Mac 11's, about eight 38's Nine 9's, ten Mac 10's the shits never end You can't touch my riches Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks Huh, that's how I got the weed spot I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb's bread Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body So don't resist, or you might miss Christmas I tote guns, I make number runs I give emcees the runs dripping When I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far away Everybody hit the D E C K My slow flows remarkable Peace to Matteo Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayo That's crazy blunts, mad L's My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells Oh my God I'm dropping shit like a pigeon I hope you're listening, smacking babies at they christening So you better grab your pistol Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fucking shit spill And I'm talking 'bout buckets, why did I have to do it Sadat said fuck it, you got a gun, nigga bust it Cause I got mo' shots to pop ya Big Poppa, breaking you off something proper Signing off is the hardcore rap singer AKA crack slinger, bring it any time nigga Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on Come on, motherfuckers, come on