notorious b i g – dead wrong (original) lyrics
(repeat 2x)
the weak or the strong
who got it goin on
you’re dead wrong
(verse one)
relax and take note
while i take totes of the marijuana smoke
throw you in choke
gun smoke gun smoke
biggie smalls for mayor
the rap slayer the hooker layer
m-th-f-cka say your prayers
(hail mary full of grace)
smack the b-tch in her face
take her gucci bag and the north face off her back
jab her if she act
funny wit the money
oh you got me mistakin honey
i don’t wanna rap ya
i just want the paper
the visa capisha
i’m out like the vapors
who’s the one the call mister macho
the head honcho
swift fist like camacho
i got so
much style i should be down wit the stylistics
make up to break up
n-gg-s need to wake up
smell the indonesia beat you to a ceasure
then f-ck your mom hit them skins to amnesia
she don’t remember sh-t just the two hits
her hittin the floor and me hittin the cl-t
suckin on her t-t
had the hooker beggin for the d-ck
and your moms ain’t ugly love my d-ck got rock quick
i guess i was a combination of house of pain and bobby brown
i was humpin around and jumpin around
jacked her then i asked her who’s the man
she said b-i-g then i bust in her e-y-e
yo big your dead wrong
(i don’t care what n-body say)
your dead wrong
(i don’t care what n-body say)
your dead wrong
(i don’t care what n-body say)
we gotta do things right
(x2)
the weak or the strong
who got it goin on
you’re dead wrong
(verse two)
the pain i inflict
like a convict
????????????????? vigor
jump in my acura vigor after i stick ya
rip ya like razor straight up henny wit no chasa
watch me erase ya misplace ya
put ya in the back wit the derelects
yeah i pop plenty sh-t
chump i’m makin hits
no time for that crack rockin sh-t
took you to another level
now i’m gettin crazy pates
gettin paid from the devil
another amatuer tryna damage the pedigree
of the b-i-g-g-i-e you know it’s me
hoes i thought you knew i’m smooth as a baby’s -ss
smooth as teddy pentergras
smoke the gr-ss get in ya -ss
the brooklyn born teflon don
reckin shop
gettin props provin n-body drops
words as potent as the blunt smokin bed stuy bandit
and n-gg-s just can’t understand it
i bust a cap for my brothers in nappmack,comstock,and clinton
you know my sh-t is h-ttin
yeah ya’ll the fly n-gg- biggie smalls
kickin flavor make a n-gg- dig up in they draws
for the burn that catch your body
i got styles like karate
jujitsu when i hit you
then i split you like a cantaloupe
hope you gotta rope to hang yourself
i rhyme for self
from brooklyn where else
back like a lexus coop i’ll rip your troup
not even lois lane could get the scoop
what you think i’m stupid m-th-f-cka
my crew is mad deep
i hope you n-gg-s sleep
(chorus)
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