Song: I Got a Story to Tell
Viewed: 64 - Published at: 8 years ago
Artist: The Notorious B.I.G.
Year: 1997Viewed: 64 - Published at: 8 years ago
[Intro]
Who y'all talkin' to, man?
Ugh
Check it out, check it out
This here goes out to all the niggas that be fuckin' mad bitches
In other niggas' cribs
Thinkin' shit is sweet
Nigga creep up on your ass, hahaha
Live niggas respect it—check it
[Verse]
I kicked flows for you, kicked down doors for you
Even left all my motherfuckin' hoes for you
Niggas think Frankie pussy-whipped
Nigga, picture that, with a Kodak, Insta-mat-tac
We don't get down like that, lay my game down quite flat
"Sweetness, where you parked at?"
Petiteness, but that ass fat
She got a body make a nigga wanna eat that—
I'm fuckin' with you
The bitch official, though; dick harder than a missile, yo
Try to hit it, if she trippin', disappearin' like Arsenio
Yo, the bitch push a double-O with the five in front
Probably a conniving stunt
Y'all drive in front, I'ma peel with her
Find the deal with her, she fuck around and steal, huh?
Then we all get laced
Televisions, Versace heaven, when I'm up in 'em
The shit she kicked—all that shit's legit
She get dick from a player off the New York Knicks
Nigga trick ridiculous, the shit was plush
She's stressing me to fuck, like she was in a rush
We fucked in his bed, quite dangerous
I'm in his ass while he playing 'gainst the Utah Jazz
My 112 CD blast, I was past
She came twice, I came last, roll the grass
She giggle, saying, "I'm smoking on homegrown"
Then I heard a moan, "Honey, I'm home!"
Yup, tote chrome for situations like this
I'm up in his broad, I know he won't like this
Now I'm, like, "Bitch, you better talk to him
Before this fifth put a spark to him
Fuck around, shit get dark to him, put a part through him
Lose a major part to him—arm, leg..."
She beggin' me to stop, but this cat gettin' closer
Gettin' hot like a toaster, I cock the toast, ugh
Before my eyes could blink
She screams out, "Honey, bring me up somethin' to drink!"
He go back downstairs, more time to think
Her brain racing, she's telling me to stay patient
She don't know I'm cool as a fan
Gat in hand, I don't wanna blast her man
But I can and I will, though; I'm tryna chill, though
Even though situation looking kinda ill, yo
It came to me like a song I wrote
Told the bitch, "Gimme your scarf, pillowcase, and rope"
Got dressed quick, tied the scarf around my face
Roped the bitch up, gagged her mouth with the pillowcase
Played the cut, nigga coming off some Love Potion shit
Flash the heat on 'em, he stood emotionless
Dropped the glass, screaming, "Don't blast, here's the stash!
A hundred cash! Just don't shoot my ass, please!"
Nigga pulling mad G's out the floor
Put stacks in a Prada knapsack, hit the door
Grab the keys to the Five, call my niggas on the cell
"Bring some weed, I got a story to tell," ugh, ugh
[Outro]
"Yo, man, y'all niggas ain't gon' believe what the fuck happened to me. 'Member that bitch I left the club with, man?"
"Yeah."
"Yo, stinky, yo. I'm up in this bitch crib—this bitch fuck with one of them ol' Knick-ass niggas and shit. I'm up in the spot, so, you know—"
"Who, God?"
"I don't know, I don't know which one of them niggas. One of them six-five niggas, I don't know."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, I'm up in the motherfuckin' spot. So, boom, I'm up in the pussy, whatever-whatever. I sparks up some lah, Pa Duke creeps up in on some..."
"Get the fuck out!"
"Must have been rained out or something, because he's in the spot."
"Get the fuck out of here! Oh, shit!"
"Had me scared, had me scared to death! I was shook, Daddy. But I forget I had my Roscoe on me."
"Ah, yeah, I know you had the heat!"
"Always."
"Hahahaha."
"You know how we do. So anyway, the nigga comes up the stairs, he creepin' up the steps. The bitch all shook—she sends the nigga back downstairs to get some drinks and shit."
"Ooh, shit!"
"She gettin' mad nervous. But I said, 'Fuck that man! I'm the nigga!'"
"I know you was finna clap 'em."
Yeah, nigga. You know how we do it, nigga—ransom note-style. Put the scarf around my motherfuckin' face
"Aight!"
"Gagged that bitch up, and played the cizzut."
"Ahahaha!"
"Soon as this nigga comes up in the spot, I flash the Desert in his face. He drops the glass. Looked like the nigga pissed on his damn self or somethin, word to my mother! Word to my mother, yo."
"Ah, shit!"
"This nigga runs dead to the floor, peels up the carpet, start givin' me mad papers. Mad papers."
"Oh, shit, what? Yo, I told you that bitch was a scheisty bitch, cuz! Word to mother, I used to fuck with her cousin, but you ain't know that!"
"Hahaha."
"You ain't even know that shit! Really, though."
"I put all that motherfuckin' money up in the Prada knapsack, and, ugh! Two words: 'I'm gone!'"
"Hahahaha! No doubt, no doubt... No doubt!"
"Y'all niggas got some lah? Y'all got some lah?"
"No doubt!"
[Produced by Buckwild and Chucky Thompson]
Who y'all talkin' to, man?
Ugh
Check it out, check it out
This here goes out to all the niggas that be fuckin' mad bitches
In other niggas' cribs
Thinkin' shit is sweet
Nigga creep up on your ass, hahaha
Live niggas respect it—check it
[Verse]
I kicked flows for you, kicked down doors for you
Even left all my motherfuckin' hoes for you
Niggas think Frankie pussy-whipped
Nigga, picture that, with a Kodak, Insta-mat-tac
We don't get down like that, lay my game down quite flat
"Sweetness, where you parked at?"
Petiteness, but that ass fat
She got a body make a nigga wanna eat that—
I'm fuckin' with you
The bitch official, though; dick harder than a missile, yo
Try to hit it, if she trippin', disappearin' like Arsenio
Yo, the bitch push a double-O with the five in front
Probably a conniving stunt
Y'all drive in front, I'ma peel with her
Find the deal with her, she fuck around and steal, huh?
Then we all get laced
Televisions, Versace heaven, when I'm up in 'em
The shit she kicked—all that shit's legit
She get dick from a player off the New York Knicks
Nigga trick ridiculous, the shit was plush
She's stressing me to fuck, like she was in a rush
We fucked in his bed, quite dangerous
I'm in his ass while he playing 'gainst the Utah Jazz
My 112 CD blast, I was past
She came twice, I came last, roll the grass
She giggle, saying, "I'm smoking on homegrown"
Then I heard a moan, "Honey, I'm home!"
Yup, tote chrome for situations like this
I'm up in his broad, I know he won't like this
Now I'm, like, "Bitch, you better talk to him
Before this fifth put a spark to him
Fuck around, shit get dark to him, put a part through him
Lose a major part to him—arm, leg..."
She beggin' me to stop, but this cat gettin' closer
Gettin' hot like a toaster, I cock the toast, ugh
Before my eyes could blink
She screams out, "Honey, bring me up somethin' to drink!"
He go back downstairs, more time to think
Her brain racing, she's telling me to stay patient
She don't know I'm cool as a fan
Gat in hand, I don't wanna blast her man
But I can and I will, though; I'm tryna chill, though
Even though situation looking kinda ill, yo
It came to me like a song I wrote
Told the bitch, "Gimme your scarf, pillowcase, and rope"
Got dressed quick, tied the scarf around my face
Roped the bitch up, gagged her mouth with the pillowcase
Played the cut, nigga coming off some Love Potion shit
Flash the heat on 'em, he stood emotionless
Dropped the glass, screaming, "Don't blast, here's the stash!
A hundred cash! Just don't shoot my ass, please!"
Nigga pulling mad G's out the floor
Put stacks in a Prada knapsack, hit the door
Grab the keys to the Five, call my niggas on the cell
"Bring some weed, I got a story to tell," ugh, ugh
[Outro]
"Yo, man, y'all niggas ain't gon' believe what the fuck happened to me. 'Member that bitch I left the club with, man?"
"Yeah."
"Yo, stinky, yo. I'm up in this bitch crib—this bitch fuck with one of them ol' Knick-ass niggas and shit. I'm up in the spot, so, you know—"
"Who, God?"
"I don't know, I don't know which one of them niggas. One of them six-five niggas, I don't know."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, I'm up in the motherfuckin' spot. So, boom, I'm up in the pussy, whatever-whatever. I sparks up some lah, Pa Duke creeps up in on some..."
"Get the fuck out!"
"Must have been rained out or something, because he's in the spot."
"Get the fuck out of here! Oh, shit!"
"Had me scared, had me scared to death! I was shook, Daddy. But I forget I had my Roscoe on me."
"Ah, yeah, I know you had the heat!"
"Always."
"Hahahaha."
"You know how we do. So anyway, the nigga comes up the stairs, he creepin' up the steps. The bitch all shook—she sends the nigga back downstairs to get some drinks and shit."
"Ooh, shit!"
"She gettin' mad nervous. But I said, 'Fuck that man! I'm the nigga!'"
"I know you was finna clap 'em."
Yeah, nigga. You know how we do it, nigga—ransom note-style. Put the scarf around my motherfuckin' face
"Aight!"
"Gagged that bitch up, and played the cizzut."
"Ahahaha!"
"Soon as this nigga comes up in the spot, I flash the Desert in his face. He drops the glass. Looked like the nigga pissed on his damn self or somethin, word to my mother! Word to my mother, yo."
"Ah, shit!"
"This nigga runs dead to the floor, peels up the carpet, start givin' me mad papers. Mad papers."
"Oh, shit, what? Yo, I told you that bitch was a scheisty bitch, cuz! Word to mother, I used to fuck with her cousin, but you ain't know that!"
"Hahaha."
"You ain't even know that shit! Really, though."
"I put all that motherfuckin' money up in the Prada knapsack, and, ugh! Two words: 'I'm gone!'"
"Hahahaha! No doubt, no doubt... No doubt!"
"Y'all niggas got some lah? Y'all got some lah?"
"No doubt!"
[Produced by Buckwild and Chucky Thompson]
( The Notorious B.I.G. )
www.ChordsAZ.com