The Notorious B.I.G., Sadat X - Come On (feat. Sadat X) [2005 Remaster]

Come on motherfuckers, come on Let's go deep into the phrase, beautiful sunrays Off the baldhead, everything is real Biggie me put on this joint so I'ma be the big wheel Watch it Slim, hey Dad, place yo' bet on seven Peace to one-oh-six, one-oh-eight, one-to-the-hundred-eleventh Hey Biggie, I understand you're from Brooklyn With 22's in your shoes, yo keep the shank ready Uhhh well, why not blow up the spot with Sadat Release the BRAINSTORM, to make your motherfuckin BRAIN WARM A strange form, somethin kind of lyrical Biggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritual Well "In God We Trust", guns I bust Got that disgustin, sewer style dumpin And that uhh do you knowwwwww, where you're goin to Do you like the things that I bring? Make an emcee wanna sing for a livin Take the beatdown we fuckin givin, c'mon motherfucker Come on motherfuckers, come on What? Niggaz want drama, puttin work on my block When I told y'all last week, that shit was too hot Sellin pieces and treys, cuts my dimes Somebody gon' get paid, somebody block get sprayed Reaction is delayed as y'all run down the block Caught one in your chest, your breath come in spurts Hey yo Biggie tell these niggaz I'ma hit em where it hurts The big city it don't spare no bodies Call me papichulo, to all the spanish mamis I'm about ten blunts down, drank three or fo' stouts Seen five fat asses, passed this bitch with glasses Hey yo money that's yo' stock, yo Bigs pass the glock I'ma tell him it can happen, don't play me with that rap shit Life is real, so Biggie take the steel Come on motherfuckers, come on Uhh 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 HAH, that's how I got the weed spot I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the landspread 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 drippin; When I throw my clip in the A.K., 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 llello That's crazy blunts, mad L's My voice excels from the avenue to jailcells Oh my God I'm droppin shit like a pigeon I hope you're listenin, smackin babies at they christening So you better grab your pistol Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fuckin shit spill And I'm talkin 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 Pop-pa, breakin you off somethin proper Signin off is the hardcore rap singer A.k.a. crack slinger, bring it anytime nigga Come on motherfuckers, come on