Hah, sick-er than your average Poppa
Twist cabbage off instinct nikkas don't think shyt stink
pink gators, my Detroit players
Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn
Dead right, if they head right, Biggie there every night
Poppa been smooth since days of Under-roos
Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who
do something to us, talk go through us
Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us
Who us? Yeah, Poppa and Puff (ehehehe)
Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick the clutch
Dare I squeeze three at your cherry M-3
(Take that, take that, take that, ha ha!)
Bang every MC easily, busily
Recently nikkas fronting ain't saying nothing (nope)
So I just speak my piece, (c'mon) keep my piece
Cubans with the Jesus piece (thank you God), with my peeps
Packing, asking who want it, you got it nikka flaunt it
That Brooklyn bullshyt, we're on it