Mr. Big Stuff

I'm that nigga in the flashy car
I'm that nigga in the flashy car
Can't catch me out, can't catch me out
Guess what? It's Mr. Big Stuff

I'm that nigga in the flashy car
I'm that nigga in the flashy car

Mr. Big Stuff, that's what they call me
I treat my white bitch like a doggy
She work the day shift, work the night shift
Extra hard, I work the white bitch

M-R dot capital B-I-G Stuff
Bad gang told me I instigate too much
Freak da Baby in the building tonight, yep

I go shit mouth on the mic
Mr. Big Stuff, so rough, so tough
I'm the shit starter, straight fuck shit up
I never ever shot a nigga in the leg
Been shot in the back so I aim for the head
Ain't scared of danger, talk shit to strangers
While it's slow, I go against gangbangers

Cato fashion, I get to blasting
Hardball living like C.C. Sebastian

Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm that nigga in the flashy car
Mr. Mr. Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you is?
I be Freak da Baby and you just a little old bitch
Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm dope like grapes in a Backwood cigar

Any nigga wanna fight me, I'ma fight him back
If a tiger bite me, I'ma bite him back
I'ma cut him so deep, he gon' bleed for weeks
Yeah, that's the way Cold Crest Creepers creep
Yo Ree, your bitch say she pregnant by you

I think you better tell her what it's gon' do
I make hoes hate, I'm the super thug
She could kill that bastard and drink the blood

I was love for slug on the block trying to get it
The punk rock bitch trying to get committed
But I ain't with it and that's what did it
Nah, for real though, hoe, you gon' have to kill it

You on some bullshit, what you trying to pull, bitch?
I come through strapped down, empty full clip
Bitch-ass bitch, this none of your business
And I'm like a walking abortion clinic

Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm that nigga in the flashy car
Mr. Mr. Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you is?
I be Freak da Baby and you just a little old bitch
Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm dope like grapes in a Backwood cigar

I sigh so hard, I can't help but floss

I paid the cost to be the motherfucking boss
Standing in the batter's box, I rip it to the parking lot
Paid like a motherfucker, high as an astronaut
Gifted, talented, steady killing brain cells
All I leave behind is a bunch of empty bullet shells

Outlaw Josey Wales
From the country club, Crestside of Vallejo
Mr. Big Stuff, Mr. Shit Starter
A bitch ain't never told me to fuck her harder
Mr. Freak da Baby, Mr. Big Donk

Mr. High Power Funk
My shit stay knocking in everybody trunk
I make fake rappers shit and they deduct the nuts
All I know is I'ma get back rich
So go buy the motherfucking album, bitch!

Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm that nigga in the flashy car
Mr. Mr. Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you is?
I be Freak da Baby and you just a little old bitch
Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are?
I'm dope like grapes in a Backwood cigar