Notorious BIG feat. Sadat X - Come On video free download

my favourite version

LYRICS:

[Hook]

Come on, motherfuckers, come on (x8)

[Verse 1: Sadat X]

Let's go deep into the phrase, feel the sun rays

Off the baldhead, everything is real

Biggie put me on this joint, so I'mma 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

[Verse 2: Notorious B.I.G.]

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 emcee wanna sing for a living

Take the beatdown we fucking giving

C'mon, motherfucker!

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Sadat X]

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

Hey yo, Biggie, tell these niggas I'mma 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'mma tell them, "It can happen, don't play me with that rap shit"

Life is real, so Biggie take the steel

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Notorious B.I.G.]

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's bread

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 emcees 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

[Hook]

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