[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.]

Fuck that, I preach it, my nine reaches

The prestigious–cats that speak this, Willie shit

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, fuck 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, nigga – 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 niggas since Gotti got caught

It's Bricks, keep your wrist covered, I'm piss 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 motherfuckin' 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 motherfuckin' 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

Motherfucker, please – it's my block with my rocks

Fuck that Hip-Hop, them "one, two"s, and "uou don't stop"s

Me and my nigga Lance, took Kim and Cease advance

Bought ten bricks, four pounds of weed plants

From Branson, now we lampin', twelve room mansion

Bitches get naked off "Get Money," "Player's Anthem"

Don't forget, "One More Chance," and my other hits, other shit

Niggas spit be counterfeit, robbery come naturally

In and out like fucking 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 Miller; rapper, slash dope dealer

Slash guerilla, slash illest turned iller

[Verse 4: Method Man]

Now now, don't approach me with that rah-rah shit, 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 niggas, 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

Niggas 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 Shitty, 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, fuck 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 bullshit like a matador

Keep your hands high (What?)