"Gimme The Loot"

[Intro:]

Yeah. Motherfuckers 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?

Motherfucking 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 fucking 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

Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit I've been robbing motherfuckers since the slave ships with the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die That's my word, nigga even try to bogart have his mother singing "It's so hard..."

Yes, love love you're fucking attitude because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga 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 bitches too up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant

I'm slamming niggas like Shaquille, shit is real When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal 'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me shit so for the bread and butter I leave niggas in the gutter Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust When I bust my gat motherfuckers 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 niggas 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 shits is persistent

Huh, goodness gracious the papers Where the cash at? Where the stash at? Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug from the main thug, .357 slug And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip

One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel before you find out how blue steel feel

from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater The money getter motherfuckers don't have better Rolex watches and colourful Swatches I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it

Man, niggas come through I'm taking high school rings too Bitches 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 bitch he can get robbed too

Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?

I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it and if I said it the cocksucker 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 fucking C.R.E.A.M and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream Hold up, he got a fucking bitch 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 fucking car keys and cruise up the block The bitch act shocked, getting shot on the spot (Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts (So why the fuck he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking Oh shit, now he looking in my face You better haul ass 'cos I ain't with no fucking chase So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot A true motherfucker going out for the loot