[Verse 1: Mr. Bigg]
I started selling dope back in 1986
I bought a Cadillac and put them thangs on that bitch
The brains blowed out with them whited leather seats
Fienders screaming for that butter cause that other shit is weak
I was only 17 had the neighborhood hooked
Had em stealing out they crib cause my crack tasted like ribs
I'm up in the morning with tha rest of these rookies
You out here selling these dimes bitch I'm out here selling these cookies
I'm flying out of town getting them thangs for 12-5
400 for an ounce and see 50 when it's dry
Pyrex dishes in tha motherfucking kitchen
Word around town Mr. Bigg got them chickens
That nigga bought a house for a small by the lake
And gave his grandma set of keys to the safe
Them jealous ass niggas and them hoes started hating
To see my lil sister drive a Benz to graduation
I'm tripping on that Hennessey and I'm smoking on them buzz
I still got love for them niggas selling them dubs
I remember when I use to do tha same shit
Buy a half-ounce and cut it up and sold the block up
I can't put my glock up; my glock is my hoe
And my hoe go everywhere I go
Which one of you fake ass niggas wonna harm me?
I said you better bring the Navy cause I'm finna bring tha Army
[Interlude: Mr. Bigg] (Take that shit to trial bitch-background)
Get yo 12 white folks and take that shit to trial bitch
Y'all motherfuckers talking about giving me 20 motherfucking years
I got 4 motherfucking lawyers standing right here and we'll strike this bitch up
And if that shit don't work I'll make y'all bitches kill me in this motherfucking court room
So motherfuck you, fuck tha judge, fuck tha D.A., and fuck all you weak ass hoes
[Verse 2: Mr. Bigg]
I got to make a plan cause them laws is on my ass
I just got a bird and I got to sell it fast
They know about the down payments on my third house
They know about the diamond in my lil sister mouth
They know about the Benz in the back pathfinder
They know about the vacation trip I took to China
They know about the hoe I was fucking named Cathy
Heard she got busted with a bird in Tallahassee
And now they tryin to say that the yay belong to me
I know they trying to get me caught; these niggas keep holding they nuts on me
Dickie suits, and bullet proofs, and still toes
No fake ass niggas only some real hoes
I packed my shit cause it's time for me to go
I'm getting tired of em kicking in my ma door
And even though they don't find shit they talk shit
Asking questions saying how the fuck you bought this shit
And how the fuck you don't work but drive different cars
We got ya on tha interstate in a Jaguar
Where that dope and them motherfucking guns at?
We'll let you go if you tell us where yo son at
Shit I don't know nothing light it up and type it up
And tell the D.A. get ready cause we gon strike it up
