Unbelievable Lyrics

Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one
Representing BK to the fullest
Gats I pull it, bastards ducking when Big be bucking
Chickenheads be clucking in my bathroom fucking
It ain't nothing, they know Big be handling
With the mac in the Ac' door paneling
Damagin MC's, oxygen they can't breathe
Mad tricks up the sleeve, wear boxers so my dick can breathe
Breeze through in the Q-45 by my side, lyrical high
And those that rushes my clutches get put on crutches
Get smoked like dutches from the master
Hate to blast you, but I have to, you see I smoke a lot
Your life is played out like Kwame, and them fucking polka dots
Who rock the spot? Biggie
You know how the weed go, unbelievable
B-I-G, G-I-E, AKA, B.I.G
Get it? Biggie

Also known as the bon appetit
Rappers can't sleep need sleeping Big keep creeping
Bullets heat-seeking, casualties need treating
Dumb rappers need teaching
Lesson A - don't fuck with B-I, that's that
Oh I, thought he was wack. Oh come come now
Why y'all so dumb now - hunt me or be hunted
I got three hundred and fifty-seven ways
To simmer saute, I'm the winner all day
Lights get dimmer down Biggie's hallway
My forte causes Caucasians to say
He sounds demented, car weed scented
If I said it, I meant it
Bite my tongue for no-one
Call me evil, or unbelievable
Buck shots out the sun roof of Lexus Coupes
Leave no witnesses, what you think this is?
Ain't no amateurs here, I damage and tear
MC's fear me, they too near not to hear me
Clearly, I'm the triple beam dream
One thousand grams of uncut to the gut
It seems fucked up, the way I touched up the grill
Trying to play gorilla, when you ain't no killer
The gat's by your liver, your upper lip quiver
Get ready to die, tell God I said hi
And throw down some ice, for the nicest MC
Niggas know the steelo, unbelievable
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written by Martin, Christopher E / Wallace, Christopher / Kelly, Robert S
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group