Da B Side

B Side, B side, ha, check it So So Def ... Bad Boy ... collaboration The Notorious BIG in the house We got Da Brat in the house And me, y'all know who I be Check it ... I got that shit all you niggas just love to ride to Funk for your trunk is what I provide you So slide through your hood with me in your deck Cause your correct way to get your groove on FLOMPS And I paid the costs to be the boss as a kid Fucked around and made some shit you can't fuck with They thought luck did it, but it didn't cause I'm back again Back with the Big and my new-found friend Sliding in from the front, never way behind Niggas wonder how I came with this style of mine Remain in your seats as I release the clip into yo' hip Brat and Biggie Smalls... Aw, shit! On top of all that, I'm so, so remarkable, Flow to make you motherfuckers know Ain't an MC coming close to touch Bitches I like to fuck, guns I like to bust, so... Lay on back, light up the blunts As we give you motherfuckers just what you want Lay on back, light up the blunts As we give you motherfuckers just what you want I never knew, niggas had a clue On who was the king of the street More deep than a Range Rover jeep, guns under the seat And my nigga just came home from work, release Cristal in my lap, chronic in the air (Brat: Nigga, pass that shit like you just don't care) Yeah, you on my shit list, Biggie burns spliffs when I'm pissed, release the Rolex from your wrist Nigga, no human being, Korean or European be seein' what Big be seein', I leave 'em peein' in they draws, because Biggie Smalls Is far from weak -- Brat-tat-tat, please speak ... (Brat: Nigga, close your eyes, cause you already see the Notorious B-R-A-T) The raw combination, the destination, Number one tote a gun with no hestiation Live with the funkdafied cutie pie Gat by the thigh, the Smalls by her side If you fuck with her you got to fuck with me And we'll be rapping at your motherfuckin' eulogy, so ... Lay on back, light up the blunts As we give you motherfuckers just what you want Brat-tat-tat-tat, please speak ... I got the funk in my pocket, shit stay locked down The nigga you know who represent them platinuim sounds Now baby Biggie, I done heard that Juicy Didn't find nuthin but truth, in the hook B You're pledging to wreck with a notorious nigga ready to die jump in the Benz, took me a little ride round the mountain, broke a left, hit SoSoDef and told the nigga JD I was the one, fuck the rest We Funkdafied, kicking it live Robin Leach teach a nigga how to really survive Whether it be track or blunt, ain't no need to front Got what you need, and I take everything you ever wanted, nigga We comin' mass, his pimpin' ass, his glass is full of Moet The Rolex is bar-bayed, parkade, B to the R-A, T Rolling off swoll on chrome 17 Lay on back, light up the blunts As we give you motherfuckers just what you want Lay back, listen to the B-Side Slide, glide, do whatever you want Get out your lighters We be the rhyme writers Starters ... from the heart of College Park, New York, Chicago ... wherever you wanna go