[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G.]
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Some Junior Mafia shit right here
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We just gonna set it off
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We's know the deal
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This shit is real
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On this end, uh
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Shit is real on this end
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No friends, J-M
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(Shit it real on this end)
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Shit is real on this end
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(Shit is real on this end)
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No friends, J-M
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[Verse One: Junior M.A.F.I.A. member #1]
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Got into my mind
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Shit is smoked up, my sight is blind
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Cock back the nine,
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Cuz I might not like what I find
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Murders I seen, killer fiend
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Through the endosheen
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Mean burst into flying milloteen
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Into see I sit, till I'm rit
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I use the gun and slip exhale
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Hollow tits
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Rub my pointer angle
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This must be the devil's triangle
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Confused, so I mangle
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Demons I had to strangle
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Perfesion hit man,
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And so they guns
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Multi clips
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I grab my gats
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Got go back and let him pull it
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[Verse Two: Junior M.A.F.I.A. member #2]
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I said I'm rough a real bitch
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Nigga, you better back up
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with the four-four devid loaded
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so motherfuckers slack up
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I shit the raps and craps
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Give me my snaps
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Bitches wanting the claps
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cuz I'm leaving them with fucking gats
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I write rhymes, the gay mind
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The maintain mind
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The rag around my head is for the gang sign
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So with the bottom lick the sha body shody
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Fear nobody at less catch fucking bodies
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On all you bitches, gang-bangers, snitches
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I get so fucked up I don't know
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Which, which, is which is
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Loss need a part of me
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Trifling and stifling
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MC's on they ass
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Two snakes in the fucking grass, nigga
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[Interlude: The Notorious B.I.G.]
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Do you know what time is is?
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No friends, J-M
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[CHORUS: The Notorious B.I.G.]
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(What you want?)
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Yo keys, G-S 3's, the papes
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Busing in bitches
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making imperionts late
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cleaning out cribs
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coke crums off the plate
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niggas real protctive
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young G's Perspective
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(What you want?)
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The keys, G-S 3's, the papes
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Busing in bitches
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making impirionts late
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cleaning out cribs
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coke crums off the plate
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niggas real protctive
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young G's Perspective
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[Verse Three: Junior M.A.F.I.A. member #3]
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(Lost)
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The dirty nigga, trigger
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Fuck the looking good shit
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I rather grab my gat
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And cock bullshit
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Heat I ceep
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When I creep
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Using to sneak into leting kept treck
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And count them greens
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A nigga drops
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I wish it was the cops
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Shit is hot
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The motherfucking block, lock
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[Verse Four: Junior M.A.F.I.A. member #4]
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Wicked creator
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Life eliminator
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Continue to sinue
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Murders on a menu
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Which get in you
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Meet the boom on the stab
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On blood harvester tomb
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Ctach a body ever full moon
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MC's with temptaion
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They're part, afixiation
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Snake relation
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Like proper damn nation
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Since birth
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On this scortched dirt
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Badness with the lyricals
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Pocket full of miricles
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I'm sick, and sick of being tired
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Ain't a soul I fear
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Too tired to care
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And sunwise
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To let my tepature rise
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Eagle eyes
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Don't believe in me
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Believe your eyes
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Should I cry?
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Cuz I wet a nigga then he die
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So cock my lie roll up and get high
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[CHORUS: The Notorious B.I.G.]
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(What you want?)
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The keys, G-S 3's, the papes
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Busing in bitches
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making imperionts late
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cleaning out cribs
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coke crums off the plate
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niggas real protctive
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young G's Perspective
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The keys, G-S 3's, the papes
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Busing in bitches
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making impirionts late
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cleaning out cribs
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coke crums off the plate
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niggas real protctive
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young G's Perspective
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[Verse Five: Junior M.A.F.I.A. member #5]
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How cause dirty bodies and glut cluts
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Very busses and buck shots
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Cock gluts and run the block
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Niggas in they clean they clucks
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Niggas can see me nuts
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Let it get hot
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Murder mo niggas and gotta load of reps
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She think mets and cot
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Because I only get drastic
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So who hasta, black plastic
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Specs in the back with all the caskets
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Who can be mo killa?
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Blood spilla?
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Clips with hollow points
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So when a nigga slips
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He shits like he's got salmonela
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Danger approaches
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Checking for who gets closest
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You're closest to get my focus
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Smoke the rookies like roaches
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Who can cause more terror then this
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Like a full terrorist
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Breaking niggas like matches
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Broken bitches appoaches
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And you know this
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Nigga lets it increase
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With mo heat than a |