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Da B Side (Squeky Clean)

B side, B side, ha check it, So So Def

Bad Boy collaboration, the Notorious B.I.G. in the house

We got Da Brat in the house and me

Y'all know who I be, check itI got that shit all you niggas just love to ride to

Funk for your trunk is what I provide you

So slide through your hood with me in your deck

Cause your correct way to get your groove on flompsAnd I paid the costs to be the boss as a kid

Fucked around and made some shit you can't fuck with

They thought luck did it but it didn't 'cause I'm back again

Back with the B.I.G. and my new-found friendSliding in from the front, never way behind

Niggas wonder how I came with this style of mine

Remain in your seats as I release the clip into yo' hip

Brat and Biggie SmallsAw shit, on top of all that, I'm so, so remarkable

Flow to make you motherfuckers know

Ain't an MC coming close to touch

Bitches I like to fuck, guns I like to bust, soLay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you want

Lay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you wantI never knew, niggas had a clue on who was the king of the street

More deep than a Range Rover jeep, guns under the seat

And my nigga just came home from work, release

Cristal in my lap, chronic in the airNigga, pass that shit like you just don't care

Yeah, you on my shit list, Biggie burns spliffs

When I'm pissed, release the Rolex from your wrist

Nigga, no human being, Korean or EuropeanBe seein' what B.I.G. be seein', I leave 'em peein'

In they draws because Biggie Smalls is far from weak

Brat-tat-tat, please speak, nigga close your eyes

'Cause you already see the Notorious B R A TThe raw combination, the destination

Number one tote a gun with no hesitation

Live with the funkdafied cutie pie

Gat by the thigh, the Smalls by her sideIf you fuck with her you got to fuck with me

And we'll be rapping at your motherfuckin' eulogy, soLay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you want

Lay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you wantBrat-tat-tat-tat, please speakI got the funk in my pocket, shit stay locked down

The nigga you know who represent them platinum sounds

Now baby Biggie, I done heard that Juicy

Didn't find nothin' but truth in the hook BYou're pledging to wreck with a notorious nigga ready to die

Jump in the Benz, took me a little ride

Round the mountain, broke a left, hit So So Def

And told the nigga JD I was the one, fuck the restWe funkdafied, kicking it live

Robin Leach teach a nigga how to really survive

Whether it be track or blunt, ain't no need to front

Got what you need and I take everything you ever wantedNigga, we comin' mass, his pimpin' ass

His glass is full of Moet, the Rolex is bar-bayed

Parkade, B to the R A T

Rolling off swoll on chrome 17Lay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you want

Lay on back, light up the blunts

As we give you motherfuckers just what you wantLay back, listen to the B side, slide, glide

Do whatever you want, get out your lighters

We be the rhyme writers, starters from the heart of College Park

New York, Chicago, wherever you wanna go

Songwriters

Wallace, Christopher / Harris, Shawntae / Dupri, Jermaine Mauldin / Calhoun, Raymond JamesPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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