"Microphone Murderer" lyrics
(from "Notorious" soundtrack)
A whole lot of niggas want Big to make a demo tape
'Specially that bum-ass nigga uh
This going out to you nigga recognize
Yo 50, what's this?
Microphone murderer, mass mayhem maker
B.I.G.'s on the mic, call the undertaker
Make an appointment, schedule a interview
Because you know what Big Man's about to do
50 Gran' on the Technic at the right peak
Brothers wanna hear the words Big Man speak
The microphone I'm rippin', the burner got the clip in
Slamming MC's like Scottie Pippen
Flipping on Old Gold, cold as the rhymes you stole
Puffin on dime bags and I been told
My words are harder than a brick, Chinese arithmetic
A thick stick and my dick
Makes me sick when you pick the whick-whack rhyme G
You get what you pumping is Tic-Tac time Z
B.I.G. moves swifter than a ninja
Even on stickups I'm the masked avenger
Keep my eyes open and the case closed
No eyewitnesses, no names are exposed
Just the heavyset one with the big gun
And a sweet tongue shaking down everyone
Loot like Michael Jackson kicks like Bo Jackson
Benz like Freddie Jackson, no need to ask in the crew
Ooh! No fronting, no faking moves
Fighting or fucking, resort to the stick and move
Smack the fool that disagree, recognize the pedigree
Rhyme is mine cause I said it's me
Step to a Big Man gripping the mic stand
Keep a bankroll and so do 50 Gran'
And, I give you my hand cause you deserve a pound
Trying to blow up the spot, in my part of town
Braves, because you get no praise
I treat you like a derelict with AIDS
Recognize, I don't fuck with the St. Ides
B.I.G. down with O.G.B
Old Gold Brothers for the others that missed me
The crew stay deep on Bedford and Quincy
Rhymes in the pocket for a quick hand to hand
You want it to be on, there's a Tec in the garbage can
I pull bitches like Kim Fields, Brooke Shields
Shelley Long, Connie Chung, I can go on and on
Word is bond I'm a don!
I split 'em and run up in 'em I fuck 'em and then I duck 'em
I hit 'em in the shitter and forget her, and it gets better
B.I.G. are the letters
Niggas know the pedi'
That's the end! What you want me to do? Damn!
'Specially that bum-ass nigga uh
This going out to you nigga recognize
Yo 50, what's this?
Microphone murderer, mass mayhem maker
B.I.G.'s on the mic, call the undertaker
Make an appointment, schedule a interview
Because you know what Big Man's about to do
50 Gran' on the Technic at the right peak
Brothers wanna hear the words Big Man speak
The microphone I'm rippin', the burner got the clip in
Slamming MC's like Scottie Pippen
Flipping on Old Gold, cold as the rhymes you stole
Puffin on dime bags and I been told
My words are harder than a brick, Chinese arithmetic
A thick stick and my dick
Makes me sick when you pick the whick-whack rhyme G
You get what you pumping is Tic-Tac time Z
B.I.G. moves swifter than a ninja
Even on stickups I'm the masked avenger
Keep my eyes open and the case closed
No eyewitnesses, no names are exposed
Just the heavyset one with the big gun
And a sweet tongue shaking down everyone
Loot like Michael Jackson kicks like Bo Jackson
Benz like Freddie Jackson, no need to ask in the crew
Ooh! No fronting, no faking moves
Fighting or fucking, resort to the stick and move
Smack the fool that disagree, recognize the pedigree
Rhyme is mine cause I said it's me
Step to a Big Man gripping the mic stand
Keep a bankroll and so do 50 Gran'
And, I give you my hand cause you deserve a pound
Trying to blow up the spot, in my part of town
Braves, because you get no praise
I treat you like a derelict with AIDS
Recognize, I don't fuck with the St. Ides
B.I.G. down with O.G.B
Old Gold Brothers for the others that missed me
The crew stay deep on Bedford and Quincy
Rhymes in the pocket for a quick hand to hand
You want it to be on, there's a Tec in the garbage can
I pull bitches like Kim Fields, Brooke Shields
Shelley Long, Connie Chung, I can go on and on
Word is bond I'm a don!
I split 'em and run up in 'em I fuck 'em and then I duck 'em
I hit 'em in the shitter and forget her, and it gets better
B.I.G. are the letters
Niggas know the pedi'
That's the end! What you want me to do? Damn!
Writer(s): Christopher Wallace, David Porter
