Rap Phenomenon lyrics

[Intro]
"Well it's the Funk Docta Spock.."
"Meth-Tical.."
"Biggie... Biggie..." (Mmmhmmmmmm)
Uhh... uhh... uhh... (Yo, c'mon, Big) uhh...

[Verse 1: Notorious B.I.G.]
f*ck that, I preach it, my nine reaches
The prestigious–cats that speak this, Willie sh*t
Flooded pieces, my hand releases, snatches
Smack your cabbage, half-ass rappers, shouldn't have it
So I grab it, never run, the outcome
Is usually a beatdown, brutally, f*ck who you be
Or where you're from, West or East Coast, squeeze toast
Leave most in the blood they laying in, what, what?
The rings and things you sing about, bring 'em out
It's hard to yell when the barrel's in your mouth
It's more than I expected, I thought your jewels was rented
But they wasn't – so run it, cousin
I could chill, the heat doesn't
Ran up in your shell about a dozen, you never see bank like Frank White
Your hand clutching, your chest-plate contemplate
You 'bout to die, n*gga – wait, keep your hands high (Yo... yo yo)

[Verse 2: Redman]
I don't brown nose out of town hoes
I'm up around fo' with the crowbar to the 5.0
I get bagged, I'm "John Doe: suspect"
You ass like prime roasting, Calvin Klein clothes
Explode the pyros when Doc guest appear
I'm out there, I bought it with George Jetson here
Your time is near, so get your body dropped off
I stopped trusting n*ggas since Gotti got caught
It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm p*ss colored
By the waist, got a gun as dark as Kris' brother
I.C.U. – my shiesty crew, like, "Ice me too"
I break your legs, leave your eyes slightly blue
The Doc is born with a grenade palm
I'm concurrent in your hood like a teenage mom
Yo, Biggie (What? What?) – she having my baby
If I pull out the A.K., keep your hands high
[Chorus: DJ Premier scratching Notorious B.I.G & Method Man samples]
"This rule is so underrated"
"Actin' as if it can't happen, you're frontin'"
"Ain't no other kings in this rap thing"
"Biggie, a motherf*ckin' rap phenomenon"
"This rule is so underrated"
"Actin' as if it can't happen, you're frontin'"
"Ain't no other kings in this rap thing"
"Biggie, a motherf*ckin' rap phenomenon"

[Verse 3: Notorious B.I.G.]
Uhh, uhh, I got a new mouth to feed, I'm due South with keys
Y'all pick seeds out y'all weed, I watch cowards bleed
Motherf*cker, please – it's my block with my rocks
f*ck that Hip-Hop, them "one, two"s, and "uou don't stop"s
Me and my n*gga Lance, took Kim and Cease advance
Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants
From Branson, now we lampin', twelve room mansion
b*tches get naked off "Get Money," "Player's Anthem"
Don't forget, "One More Chance," and my other hits, other sh*t
n*ggas spit be counterfeit, robbery come naturally
In and out like f*cking rapidly, pass the gat to me
Make his chest rest, where his back should be, talkin' blasphemy
Blasting me, your family, rest in coffins often
Frank Wizzah, far from soft or frág–illa
Play hard like Reggie Mille; rapper, slash dope dealer
Slash guerilla, slash illest turned iller
[Verse 4: Method Man]
Now now, don't approach me with that rah-rah sh*t, you out of pocket
I take these adolescents back to Spofford
Mentally, my energy, is like a figure eight, on it's side, that's infinity
Too many sick n*ggas, nickel nines bring the remedy
When you play the field, what's the penalty?
Unnecessary roughness, career endin' injuries for suckers
Stuck on stupid, shoot 'em with a dart like Cupid
Until they got love for my music
'Star Wars', I'm Han Solo, with three egos
And three charges, I got to see-three-P.O.'s
This is Whoop-Your-Ass Day, the sequel
High bar flow-er, with no equal
n*ggas swingin' swords in the war – that's my people
Sho' nuff, before I roll up, this is a hold-up
Hands high, reach for the sky
I rep S.I., the "Unpretty," word to Left Eye
New York sh*tty, put they weight on it
And who better for the job than Biggie?
The Notorious, Jesus, unbelievable rhyme that reaches
And touch individual, small frame, buck and change
MC What's-Your-Name, tuck your chain
All about the fortune, f*ck the fame, labels still extortin'
Kick me when I'm down, but I'm up again, scorchin'
Hot — forcin' my way up in the door
To kill the bullsh*t like a matador
Keep your hands high (What?)