Oh My Lord

Why niggas wanna clock me, like that dance called the tati?

Don't they know I break motherfuckers apart like Rocky

Part 1, part 2, part 3, niggas can't fuck with me

My styles knock me plum crazy

Who's that motherfucker that's catchin' wreck

Stickin' Jamaicans for sound sets outside discotheques?

It's Klep the debt specialist, the lonely stone shit

Stayin' high, representin' for the nine-quint

Rap's bad guy, burns the house down like Left Eye

Why try mimic? MC's get broke like speed limits

Niggas can't fuck with my metaphors

Canin' MC's like they in Singapore

Klep been through more wars than Gump and Shore

Put together, catchin' leathers on the regular

Got the net, push me 'round a dread stressin' a trick hoe

What the dread don't know won't hurt

Robbin' his workers for they work

Now, whose turf is this?

It's Klepster close wrecker, wife interceptor, weed collector

Got your bitch on my dick, and I ain't even stressin' her

Checkin' her for sex and uh, my styles irregular

Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the Federals

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

We throw gats to your ass, nigga

Flows tighter than pigeon punani, try me, die, G

Dangerous, since my daddy bust me out the zipper, bitch

Biggie Smalls with the wicked shit

Spit clips, niggas split like bananas

Flavor like Tropicana, orange, mango, peach

I strangle each, negro for they dough

Niggas get to bendin', got two cases, one pendin'

560 V12 engine, women spinnin' in 929 Mazdas

Tammy and Natasha, the ménage à trois

Around my way, like Ill and Al Skratch

Smokin' 50 sacks in the back of Ac's

Windows cracked, so sit back, relax

Y'all better crush the hash, the Beretta's in the stash

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

What you doin' with yourself? Stone heart's the way to wealth

Indecisive thoughts make sentences get dealt

Money makes the world go 'round, robbin' niggas

Niggas want cribs, bricks and spliffs

All-wheel automobiles, traction control for slick roads

Rollin' for dough, kickin' game on the cell

With bitches on hold, that's how we roll

Rhymes style tight as hell, so to the bank I stroll

Money on my mind, open lids from my eyes

Reveal pupils shaped like dollar signs, the world is mine

Niggas be frontin', feelin' 12 gauge pellets

Big is repellant to all that he-say, she-say

We play Russian roulette, fuck the threat

Your whole crew's an asshole, you and your co-signer

Niggas be rollin' in eight-and-a-half's

TV's in the dash, three G's in the stash

See, we love the cash, dope coke to make some more

Niggas say, "Oh, my Lord! Salute!"

Niggas don't know 'bout my game, they don't know how complex it is

Baggin' bitches in GS 300 Lexuses

And a Texas for summer sports

Passports for drug transports to remote resorts

Bitches with Donna Karan cap women suits

Matchin' sneaker boots, haircut cute

Bratops and garters like prostitutes

My lyrics explicit, got bitches

Bringin' they own condoms on the first visit

And Biggie bring big bowls of beef

Blackin' niggas, tear down burners, bring bundles of belief

Common thief, slash drug chief, syndicated

Went from 10K to 24K, and motherfucker made it

JM sedated, quarantined

B.I.G. for president, buckin' shots past the spleen

Nine millimeter dream, MAC-11 nightmares

Electric chairs, which MC's do you fear?

Big Poppa, Junior M.A.F.I.A., 'nough said

Niggas disrespect just are dead