Come On
Notorious B.I.G. vs Grateful Dead Lyrics
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Nigga was motherfuckin' hyped up
The nigga just grabbed a nigga,snuffed a nigga
And it was on from there, the motherfucker, was not stopping him homes
(What the rest of his niggas do?)
Man, them motherfuckers was ready for anything
Them niggas was packing burners, niggas ready to fight with them
Whatever they had to do homes
Niggas coming out like a motherfucker
Niggas was ancy like come on, come on, motherfuckers
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Let's go deep into the phrase, feel the sun rays
Off the forehead, everything is real
Biggie put me on this joint, so I'ma be the big wheel
Watch it spin, hey dad, placed your bet on seven
Peace to 106, 108, 110 and 111th
Hey Biggie, I understand you're from Brooklyn
With .22s in your shoes, yo, keep this joint cooking
Well, why not blow up the spot with Sadat?
Release the brainstorm to make your motherfucking brain warm
A strange form, something kind of lyrical
Biggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritual
Well, in God we trust, guns I bust
Got that disgusting, sewer-style dumping
And, uh, do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that I bring?
Make an MC wanna sing for a living
Take the beatdown we fucking giving
C'mon, motherfucker!
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
What? Niggas want drama, putting work on my block
When I told y'all last week that shit was too hot
Selling deuces and treys cuts my dimes
Somebody don't get paid, somebody's block get sprayed
Reaction is delayed as ya run down the block
Caught one in your chest, your breath come in spurts
Ay yo, Biggie, tell these niggas I'ma hit 'em where it hurts
The Big City, it don't spare no bodies
Call me papi chulo, to all the Spanish mamis
I'm about ten blunts down, drank three or four stouts
Seen five fat asses, passed this bitch with glasses
Hey, your money, that's your stock, yo bitch, pass the Glock
I'ma tell them, "It can happen, don't play me with that rap shit"
Life is real, so Biggie take the steel
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
I got seven MAC-11's, about eight .38's
Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's the shits never end
You can't touch my riches
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
Huh, that's how I got the weed spot
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body
So don't resist or you might miss Christmas
I tote guns, I make number runs
I give MCs the runs dripping
When I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far away
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
My slow flows remarkable, peace to Matteo
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayo
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
Oh my God I'm dropping shit like a pigeon
I hope you're listening, smacking babies at they christening
So you better grab your pistol
'Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fucking shit spill
And I'm talking 'bout buckets, why did I have to do it?
Sadat said fuck it, you got a gun, nigga bust it
'Cause I got mo' shots to pop ya
Big Poppa, breaking you off something proper
Signing off is the hardcore rap singer
AKA crack slinger, bring it any time nigga
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
The lyrics of this song by Notorious B.I.G. and Frank Sinatra describe a violent scene in which a group of people are hyped up and ready for anything. The opening lines depict one person grabbing and punching another, setting off a chain reaction among the group. The rest of the group is also prepared for any situation, armed with weapons and ready to fight. The repetition of the phrase "come on, motherfuckers" creates a sense of urgency and aggression, emphasizing the intense situation.
The second half of the song introduces a collaboration between Biggie and Sadat X, who sing about their experiences in the rough streets of New York City. They discuss the dangers of their surroundings, and mention their involvement in gang activity. The lyrics "I got seven MAC-11's, 'bout eight .38's / Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's, the shit never ends" evoke a sense of power and danger, highlighting the weapons they possess. The song ends with Biggie proclaiming himself a "hardcore rap singer" and inviting anyone to bring it on.
The sense of aggression and danger in this song reflects the intense atmosphere of gang life and urban violence. The lyrics paint a vivid picture of a violent reality, in which individuals arm themselves and prepare for any situation. The repetition of the phrase "come on, motherfuckers" emphasizes the intensity of this reality, creating a sense of urgency and danger.
Line by Line Meaning
The motherfucker was amped
The guy was really excited
Nigga was motherfuckin' hyped up
The guy was extremely excited
The nigga just grabbed a nigga,snuffed a nigga
The guy attacked someone suddenly and violently
And it was on from there, the motherfucker, was not stopping him homes
After the fight, the guy was unstoppable, and he kept going
(What the rest of his niggas do?)
What did the guy's friends do?
Man, them motherfuckers was ready for anything
The guy's friends were prepared for anything that might happen
Them niggas was packing burners, niggas ready to fight with them
The guy's friends were carrying guns and were ready to fight
Whatever they had to do homes
They were ready to do whatever it takes
Niggas on the real flip mode holmes
The guys were really intense
Niggas coming out like a motherfucker
The guys were coming out fast
Niggas was ancy like come on, come on, motherfuckers
The guys were very impatient and urging each other to hurry
Come on, motherfuckers, come on
Repeatedly urging guys to hurry up
Let's go deep into the phrase, feel the sun rays
We need to pay attention to the details and embrace the good things in life
Off the forehead, everything is real
When we focus, we can see things for what they really are
Biggie put me on this joint, so I'ma be the big wheel
Biggie put me on this track, so I am going to lead the way
Watch it spin, hey dad, placed your bet on seven
Watch the wheel spin, and take a gamble on lucky number seven
Peace to 106, 108, 110 and 111th
Greeting and acknowledging different areas and communities
Hey Biggie, I understand you're from Brooklyn
Addressing Biggie and acknowledging where he comes from
With .22s in your shoes, yo, keep this joint cooking
Even with small resources, Biggie is still successful and should keep making great music
Well, why not blow up the spot with Sadat?
Why not collaborate with Sadat X and make something great?
Release the brainstorm to make your motherfucking brain warm
Let your ideas flow freely to get those creative juices flowing
A strange form, something kind of lyrical
A unique and artistic form of expression
Biggie the bastard, Sadat's kind of spiritual
Biggie has a rough exterior while Sadat has a more spiritual side
Well, in God we trust, guns I bust
We can trust in God, but sometimes weapons must be used
Got that disgusting, sewer-style dumping
Shooting bullets recklessly
And, uh, do you know where you're going to?
Do you have a clear direction in life?
Do you like the things that I bring?
Do you enjoy and appreciate my music?
Make an MC wanna sing for a living
My music is so great that other rappers would want me to produce them
Take the beatdown we fucking giving
Take the consequences we're handing out
C'mon, motherfucker!
Encouraging someone to get up and do something
What? Niggas want drama, putting work on my block
Other guys are looking to cause trouble on my turf
When I told y'all last week that shit was too hot
I warned everyone that things were too dangerous around here
Selling deuces and treys cuts my dimes
Dealing drugs is a risky business
Somebody don't get paid, somebody's block get sprayed
If someone doesn't pay, someone's going to get shot
Reaction is delayed as ya run down the block
People aren't quick to react when danger is near
Caught one in your chest, your breath come in spurts
Being shot in the chest makes it hard to breathe
Ay yo, Biggie, tell these niggas I'ma hit 'em where it hurts
Biggie, let them know I'm going to come after them viciously
The Big City, it don't spare no bodies
The city is unforgiving and can be deadly
Call me papi chulo, to all the Spanish mamis
Spanish girls call me daddy
I'm about ten blunts down, drank three or four stouts
I've smoked a lot of weed and drank several beers
Seen five fat asses, passed this bitch with glasses
I saw five big butts and ignored a girl in glasses
Hey, your money, that's your stock, yo bitch, pass the Glock
Take care of your money, and let me handle the gun
I'ma tell them, "It can happen, don't play me with that rap shit"
Don't underestimate what I can do, I'm not playing around
Life is real, so Biggie take the steel
Life is dangerous, so Biggie will carry a gun for protection
I got seven MAC-11's, about eight .38's
I have a lot of guns
Nine 9's, ten MAC-10's the shits never end
I have even more guns than I previously listed
You can't touch my riches
You can't take my wealth
Even if you had MC Hammer and them 357 bitches
Even if you had MC Hammer and some powerful women
Biggie Smalls, the millionaire, the mansion, the yacht
Biggie is wealthy and has nice possessions
The two weed spots, the two hot Glocks
Biggie has two places to sell weed and two guns
Huh, that's how I got the weed spot
This is how Biggie established his drug business
I shot dread in the head, took the bread and the lamb spread
I killed a Rastafarian and stole his money and food
Lil' Gotti got the shotty to your body
Little Gotti has a shotgun, and he's not afraid to use it
So don't resist or you might miss Christmas
Don't struggle, or you could die
I tote guns, I make number runs
I carry guns, and I handle drug deals
I give MCs the runs dripping
I make other rappers nervous
When I throw my clip in the AK, I slay from far away
When I load my gun, I can kill from a distance
Everybody hit the D-E-C-K
Everyone should drop to the ground
My slow flows remarkable, peace to Matteo
My rapping style is unique and creative
Now we smoke weed like Tony Montana sniff the yayo
I smoke weed just like how Tony Montana snorted cocaine
That's crazy blunts, mad L's
I smoke a lot of blunts and cigarettes
My voice excels from the avenue to jail cells
My voice can be heard clearly from the streets to prison
Oh my God I'm dropping shit like a pigeon
I am releasing a lot of music
I hope you're listening, smacking babies at they christening
I hope you're paying attention, even when you're at important events
So you better grab your pistol
You should take your gun for protection
'Cause if you sit still, I'm gonna make your fucking shit spill
If you don't act, something bad is going to happen to you
And I'm talking 'bout buckets, why did I have to do it?
I'm talking about spilling a lot of blood, why did I have to do that?
Sadat said fuck it, you got a gun, nigga bust it
Sadat doesn't care and is urging me to shoot my gun
'Cause I got mo' shots to pop ya
I have more bullets to shoot at you
Big Poppa, breaking you off something proper
Big Poppa is going to show you something impressive
Signing off is the hardcore rap singer
I am signing off as a tough rapper
AKA crack slinger, bring it any time nigga
Also known as a drug dealer, I am ready for anything
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC
Written by: CHARLES AZNAVOUR, CHRISTOPHER WALLACE, DON BLACK, GERRY GOFFIN, MICHAEL MASSER, ROBERT GALL, ROBERT A HALL
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind