NOTORIOUS B.I.G. - Gimme The Loot lyrics

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    NOTORIOUS B.I.G. LYRICS
    
    "Gimme The Loot"
    
    
    [Intro:]
    
    Yeah. Motherfuckers better know... huh, huh. Lock your windows,
    close your doors. Biggie Smalls, huh...yeah. 
    
    [Verse One:]
     
    My man Inf left a Tec and a nine at my crib 
    Turned himself in, he had to do a bid 
    A one-to-three, he be home the end of '93
    I'm ready to get this paper, G, you with me? 
    
    Motherfucking right, my pocket's looking kind of tight 
    and I'm stressed, yo Biggie let me get the vest 
    
    No need for that, just grab the fucking gat 
    The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back 
    Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves (what?)
    Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move 
    
    Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit 
    I've been robbin motherfuckers since the slave ships 
    with the same clip and the same four-five 
    Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die
    That's my word, nigga even try to bogart 
    have his mother singing "It's so hard..."
    
    Yes, love love you're fucking attitude 
    because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga that's getting screwed 
    and bruised up from the pistol whipping 
    webs on the neck from the necklace stripping 
    Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing bitches too 
    up the herring bones and bamboos 
    I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant 
    Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant 
    
    I'm slamming niggaz like Shaquille, shit is real 
    When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal 
    'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me shit 
    so for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter 
    Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous 
    Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust 
    When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps 
    I'm all that and a dime sack, where the payback?
    
    [Verse Two:]
     
    Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up 
    and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup 
    Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece 
    The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath 
    You're talking to the robbery expert 
    Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt 
    Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant 
    'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent 
    
    Huh, goodness gracious the papers
    Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
    Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug
    from the main thug, .357 slug
    And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip 
    
    One in the chamber, 32 in the clip 
    Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel 
    before you find out how blue steel feel 
    
    from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater 
    The money getter motherfuckers don't have better 
    Rolex watches and colourful Swatches 
    I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it 
    
    Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too 
    Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles 
    and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers 
    And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!"
    
    So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too 
    
    Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?
    
    I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it
    and if I set it the cocksucker won't forget it 
    
    [Verse Three:]
     
    Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet 
    But money looks sweet (where at?) in the Isuzu jeep 
    
    Man, I throw him in the Beem, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M 
    and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream 
    Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car 
    Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar 
    
    Ooh Biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back 
    Hit her with the gat...
      
    Yo chill, Shorty, let me do that...
    Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block 
    The bitch act shocked, gettin shot on the spot 
    (Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool 
    They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts 
    (So why the fuck he keep lookin?) I guess to get his life tooken
    I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking 
    Oh shit, now he lookin in my face 
    You better haul ass 'cos I ain't with no fucking chase 
    So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot 
    A true motherfucker going out for the loot
    
    [Thanks to jarulesbabe66@aol.com for these lyrics]

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