Hypnotize (2016 Remastered)

Hah, sicker than your average
Poppa twist cabbage off instinct
Niggas don't think shit stink
Pink gators, my Detroit players
Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn
Dead right, if the head right, Biggie there every night
Poppa been smooth since days of Underroos
Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who
Do something to us, talk go through us
Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us
Who us? Yeah, Poppa and Puff (ehehehe)
Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick to clutch
Dare I squeeze three at your cherry M-3
(Take that, take that, take that, ha ha!)
Bang every MC easily, busily
Recently niggas fronting ain't saying nothing (nope)
So I just speak my piece, (c'mon) keep my peace
Cubans with the Jesus piece (thank you God), with my peeps
Packing, asking who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it
That Brooklyn bullshit, we on it

x3 - Pamela Long
Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see
Sometimes your words just hypnotize me
And I just love your flashy ways
Guess that's why they broke, and you're so paid

I put hoes in NY onto DKNY
Miami, D.C. prefer Versace
All Philly hoes, go with Moschino
Every cutie wit a booty bought a Coogi
Now who's the real dookie, meaning who's really the shit
Them niggas ride dicks, Frank White push the six
Or the Lexus, LX, four and a half
Bulletproof glass, tints if I want some ass
Gonna blast squeeze first ask questions last
That's how most of these so-called gangsters pass
At last, a nigga rappin bout blunts and broads
Tits and bras, ménage à trois, sex in expensive cars
I still leave you on the pavement
Condo paid for, no car payment
At my arraignment, note for the plaintiff
"Your daughter's tied up in a Brooklyn basement"
Face it, not guilty, that's how I stay filthy
Richer than Richie, till you niggas come and get me

[Hook x2 -
Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see
Sometimes your words just hypnotize me
And I just love your flashy ways
Guess that's why they broke, and you're so paid

I can fill ya wit real millionaire shit (I can fill ya)
Escargot, my car go, one sixty, swiftly
Wreck it buy a new one
Your crew run run run, your crew run run
I know you sick of this, name brand nigga wit
Flows, girls say he's sweet like licorice
So get with this nigga, it's easy
Girlfriend here's a pen, call me round ten
Come through, have sex on rugs that's Persian
Come up to your job, hit you while you working
For certain, Poppa freaking, not speaking
Leave that ass leakin, like rapper demo
Tell them ho, take they clothes off slowly
Hit em wit the force like Obi, dick black like Toby (Obi... Toby)
Watch me roam like Romey
Lucky they don't owe me
Where the safe? Show me, homie



Credits
Writer(s): Deric Michael Angelettie, Andy W. Armer, Christopher Wallace, Randy C. Alpert, Sean J. Combs, Ronald Lawrence
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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