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notorious b i g - gimme the loot lyrics

[intro:]

yeah. motherf-ckers better know… huh, huh. lock your windows,
close your doors. biggie smalls, huh…yeah.

[verse one:]

my man inf left a tec and a nine at my crib
turned himself in, he had to do a bid
a one-to-three, he be home the end of ’93
i’m ready to get this paper, g, you with me?

motherf-cking right, my pocket’s looking kind of tight
and i’m stressed, yo biggie let me get the vest

no need for that, just grab the f-cking gat
the first pocket that’s fat the tec is to his back
word is bond, i’m a smoke him yo don’t fake no moves (what?)
treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move

n-gg-, you ain’t got to explain sh-t
i’ve been robbing motherf-ckers since the slave ships
with the same clip and the same four-five
two point-blank, a motherf-cker’s sure to die
that’s my word, n-gg- even try to bogart
have his mother singing “it’s so hard…”

yes, love love you’re f-cking att-tude
because the n-gg- play p-ssy that’s the n-gg- that’s getting screwed
and bruised up from the pistol whipping
webs on the neck from the necklace stripping
then i’m dipping up the block and i’m robbing b-tches too
up the herring bones and bamboos
i wouldn’t give f-ck if you’re pregnant
give me the baby rings and a #1 mom pendant

i’m slamming n-gg-s like shaquille, sh-t is real
when it’s time to eat a meal i rob and steal
‘cos mom duke ain’t giving me sh-t
so for the bread and b-tter i leave n-gg-s in the gutter
huh, word to mother, i’m dangerous
crazier than a bag of f-cking angel dust
when i bust my gat motherf-ckers take dirt naps
i’m all that and a dime sack, where the paper at?

[verse two:]

big up, big up, it’s a stick up, stick up
and i’m shooting n-gg-s quick if you hiccup
don’t let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece
the opposite of peace sending mom duke a wreath
you’re talking to the robbery expert
stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt
don’t be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant
‘cos when i lick shots the sh-ts is persistent

huh, goodness gracious the papers
where the cash at? where the stash at?
n-gg-, p-ss that before you get your grave dug
from the main thug, .357 slug
and my n-gg- biggie got an itchy one grip

one in the chamber, 32 in the clip
motherf-ckers better strip, yeah n-gg- peel
before you find out how blue steel feel

from the beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
the money getter motherf-ckers don’t have better
rolex watches and colourful swatches
i’m digging in pockets, motherf-ckers can’t stop it

man, n-gg-s come through i’m taking high school rings too
b-tches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles
and when i rock her and drop her i’m taking her door knockers
and if she’s resistant “baka! baka! baka!”

so go get your man b-tch he can get robbed too

tell him biggie took it, what the f-ck he gonna do?

i hope apologetic or i’m a have to set it
and if i said it the c-cksucker won’t forget it

[verse three:]

man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet
but money looks sweet (where at?) in the isuzu jeep

man, i throw him in the beem, you grab the f-cking c.r.e.a.m
and if he start to scream “bam! bam!”, have a nice dream
hold up, he got a f-cking b-tch in the car
fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar

ooh biggie, let me jack her, i kick her in the back
hit her with the gat…

yo chill, shorty, let me do that…
just get the f-cking car keys and cruise up the block
the b-tch act shocked, getting shot on the spot
(oh sh-t! the cops!) be cool, fool
they ain’t gonna roll up, all they want is f-cking doughnuts
(so why the f-ck he keep looking?) i guess to get his life tooken
i just came home, ain’t trying to see central booking
oh sh-t, now he looking in my face
you better haul -ss ‘cos i ain’t with no f-cking chase
so lace up your boots, ‘cos i’m about to shoot
a true motherf-cker going out for the loot

- notorious b i g lyrics

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