The What [Ft. Method Man] (A Cappella) Songtext
von The Notorious B.I.G.

I used to get feels on a bitch
Now I throw shields on the dick to stop me from that HIV shit
And niggaz know they hot like a twinkie filling
Playing the Villian prepare for this rap killing
Biggie smalls is the illest
Your style is played out, like Arnold wondered
"What you talking ′bout Willis?"
The thrill is gone, the black Frank White
Is here to excite and throw dick to dyke's
Bitches I like ′em brainless, guns I like 'em stainless steel
I want the fuckin Fortune like the wheel
I squeeze gets till my clips is empty
Don't tempt me you don′t want to fuck with Biggie
Here I am, I′ll be damned if this ain't some shit
Come to spread the butter lyrics over hominy grit
It′s the low killer death trap, yes I'm a jet black ninja
Comin′ where you rest at, surrender
Step inside the ring, you're the number one contender
Lookin′ cold booty like your pussy in December
Nigga stop bitchin', button up ya lip and


From Method all you gettin' is a can of ass-whippin′
Hey, I′ll be kickin', you son, you doin′ all the yappin'
Actin′ as if it can't happen′
You front and got me mad enough to touch somethin'
Yo I'm from Shaolin′, Island, and ain′t afraid to bust somethin'
So what cha want nigga, ya punk nigga
I got a six-shooter and a horse named Trigger
It′s real, ninety-four, rugged raw
Kickin' down your god damn door
Fuck the world, don′t ask me for shit
And everything you get ya gotta work hard foot it
Honies shake your hips, ya don't stop
And niggaz pack the clips, keep on
Two, comin′ with that Olde E brew
Meth-tical, puttin' niggaz back in I.C.U.
I'm lifted troop, you can bring yours wack ass crew
I got connections, I′ll get that ass stuck like glue, huh
No question, I be comin′ down and shit
Yo I gets rugged as a motherfuckin' carpet get
And niggaz love it, not in the physical form but in the mental
I spark and they cells get warm
I′m not a gentle, man, I'm a Method, Man!
Baby accept it, utmost respect it
Assume the position, stop, look and listen
I spit on your grave then I grab my Charles Dickens
Welcome to my center, honies feel it deep in they placenta
Cold as the pole in the winter, far from the inventor
But I got this rap shit sewed and when my Mac unloads
I′m guaranteed another video
Ready to die, why I act that way?
Pop Duke left Mom Duke the faggot took the back way
So instead of makin' hoes suck my dick up, I used to do stick-up
′Cause hoes is irritatin' like the hiccups
Excuse me, flows just grow through me like trees to branches
Cliffs to avalanches, it's the praying mantis
Deep like the mind of Farrakhan
A motherfuckin′ rap phenomenon, plus
I got more glocks and techs than you
I make it hot nigga won′t even stand next to you
Nigga touch me you better bust me three times in the head
Or motherfucker's dead, ya thought so
Fuck the world, don′t ask me for shit
And everything you get ya gotta work hard for it
Honies shake your hips, ya don't stop
And niggaz pack the clips, keep on
Fuck the world, don′t ask me for shit
And everything you get ya gotta work hard for it
Honies shake your hips, ya don't stop
And niggaz pack the clips, keep on