The Life Of Castro

by The Notorious B.I.G.

/
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Pro-manufactured sealed Digipak CD
    UV LED hi-resolution printed disc
    Matt laminated sleeve
    Orange underside
    Comes with Life Of Castro artwork card and bonus track

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Life Of Castro via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 1 day

      £8.99 GBP or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      £6.99 GBP  or more

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 20 Irn Mnky releases available on Bandcamp and save 40%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Antoine Roccamora - An MF DOOM Story, Krispy Audio Ant Cakez, Rock The Cowbells, The Life Of Castro, La Cosa Nastra, Irn Mnky Presents Eskar - Back To The Future - Part II, Wu​-​Tang Monkey Fist II, Wu-Tang Monkey Fist, and 12 more. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      £54.50 GBP or more (40% OFF)

     

  • Green Edition Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Pro-manufactured Green Edition cassette
    UV LED hi-resolution printed shell
    Includes artwork card
    Bonus track included in download

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Life Of Castro via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

  • Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Pro-manufactured cassette
    UV LED hi-resolution printed shell
    Available in Orange / Fluorescent Orange / Clear
    Comes with Life Of Castro artwork sticker and bonus track

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Life Of Castro via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

  • Lemon Edition Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Pro-manufactured Lemon Edition cassette
    Full body UV LED hi-resolution printed shell
    Includes artwork card
    Bonus track included in download

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Life Of Castro via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

  • Minidisc
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Pro-manufactured sealed Minidisc
    UV LED hi-resolution printed lemon shells
    Embossed front underside text
    Double sided 2 page j-card
    Comes with artwork card, bonus track and beats

    Includes unlimited streaming of The Life Of Castro via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Sold Out

1.
Uhh, when the la-la hits ya lyrics just splits ya Head so hard, that your hat can't fit you Either I'm with ya or against ya Format bent 'cha, back through that maze I sent ya Talking to the rap inventor Nigga with the game tight, fifth that flame right Spell my name right, B-I, double-G, I-E Iced out, lights out, me and Cease-A-Leo Getting head from some chick he know See it's all about the cheddar, nobody do it better Going back to Cali, strictly for the weather Women and the weed, sticky green No seeds bitch please, Poppa ain't soft Dead up in the hood, ain't no love lost Got me mixed up, you drunk them licks up Mad 'cause I got my dick sucked And my balls licked, forfeit, the game is mine I'ma spell my name one more time, check it It's the, N-O, T-O, R-I, O U-S, you just, lay down, slow Recognize a real Don when you see one Sipping on booze in the House of Blues I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) If I got to choose a coast I got to choose the East I live out there, so don't go there But that don't mean a nigga can't rest in the West See some nice breast in the West Smoke some nice sess in the West, y'all niggas is a mess Thinking I'm gon stop, giving L.A props All I got is beef with those that violate me I shall annihilate thee Case closed, suitcase filled with clothes Linens and things, I begin things Beeper start to flash, 818's, 213's 313's, B.I.G Frequently floss hoes at Roscoe's If I wanna squirt her, take her to Fatburger Spend about a week on Venice Beach Sippin Crist-o, with some freaks from Frisco I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) Cali got gunplay, models on the runway Scream Biggie Biggie gimme One More Chance I be whipping on the freeway, the NYC way On the celly-celly with my homeboy Lance Pass hash from left to right Only got five blunts left to light, I'm set tonight Met a bitch at the Versace store Said she suck it 'til I ain't got no more, only in L.A Bust on bitches be-lly, rub it in they tummy Lick it, say it's yummy, then fuck your man What's your plan, is it to rock the Tri-State? Almost gold, five Gs a show date Or do you wanna see about seven digits? Fuck hoes exquisite, Cali, great place to visit I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali) I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali (going back to Cali)
2.
Juicy 04:14
Yeah, this album is dedicated To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin' To all the people that lived above the buildings that I was hustlin' in front of Called the police on me when I was just tryin' to make some money to feed my daughter (it's all good) And all the niggas in the struggle You know what I'm sayin'? It's all good, baby baby It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine Hangin' pictures on my wall Every Saturday Rap Attack, Mr. Magic, Marley Marl I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped Smokin' weed in Bambu, sippin' on Private Stock Way back, when I had the red and black lumberjack With the hat to match Remember Rappin' Duke? Duh-ha, duh-ha You never thought that hip-hop would take it this far Now I'm in the limelight 'cause I rhyme tight Time to get paid, blow up like the World Trade Born sinner, the opposite of a winner Remember when I used to eat sardines for dinner Peace to Ron G, Brucie B, Kid Capri Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starski I'm blowin' up like you thought I would Call the crib, same number, same hood It's all good (It's all good) And if you don't know, now you know, nigga I made the change from a common thief To up close and personal with Robin Leach And I'm far from cheap I smoke skunk with my peeps all day Spread love, it's the Brooklyn way The Moët and Alizé keep me pissy Girls used to diss me Now they write letters 'cause they miss me I never thought it could happen, this rappin' stuff I was too used to packin' gats and stuff Now honeys play me close like butter play toast From the Mississippi down to the East Coast Condos in Queens, indo for weeks Sold-out seats to hear Biggie Smalls speak Livin' life without fear Puttin' five karats in my baby girl's ear Lunches, brunches, interviews by the pool Considered a fool 'cause I dropped out of high school Stereotypes of a black male misunderstood And it's still all good And if you don't know, now you know, nigga Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis When I was dead broke, man, I couldn't picture this 50-inch screen, money-green leather sofa Got two rides, a limousine with a chauffeur Phone bill about two G's flat No need to worry, my accountant handles that And my whole crew is loungin' Celebratin' every day, no more public housin' Thinkin' back on my one-room shack Now my mom pimps a Ac' with minks on her back And she loves to show me off of course Smiles every time my face is up in The Source We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us No heat, wonder why Christmas missed us Birthdays was the worst days Now we sip Champagne when we thirsty Uh, damn right, I like the life I live 'Cause I went from negative to positive And it's all (It's all good, nigga) And if you don't know, now you know, nigga
3.
Big Poppa 03:07
To all the ladies in the place with style and grace Allow me to lace these lyrical douches, in your bushes Who rock grooves and make moves with all the mommies The back of the club, sippin' Moet, is where you'll find me (what?) The back of the club, mackin' hoes, my crew's behind me (huh) Mad question askin', blunt passin', music blastin' But I just can't quit 'Cause one of these honies Biggie gots ta creep with Sleep with, keep the ep a secret why not Why blow up my spot 'cause we both got hot Now check it, I got more Mack than Craig and in the bed Believe me sweety I got enough to feed the needy No need to be greedy I got mad friends with Benz's C-notes by the layers, true fuckin'' players Jump in the Rover and come over Tell your friends jump in the GS3, I got the chronic by the tree Straight up honey really I'm askin' Most of these niggas think they be mackin' but they be actin Who they attractin' with that line, "What's your name what's your sign?" Soon as he buy that wine I just creep up from behind And ask what your interests are, who you be with Things to make you smile, what numbers to dial You gon' be here for a while, I'm gon' go call my crew You go call your crew We can rendezvous at the bar around two Plans to leave, throw the keys to 'Lil Cease Pull the truck up, front, and roll up the next blunt So we can steam on the way to the telly go fill my belly A t-bone steak, cheese eggs and Welch's grape Conversate for a few, 'cause in a few, we gon' do What we came to do, ain't that right boo (true) Forget the telly we just go to the crib and watch a movie in the jacuzzi smoke L's while you do me (How ya livin' Biggie Smalls?) In mansion and Benz's givin' ends to my friends and it feels stupendous Tremendous cream, fuck a dollar and a dream Still tote gats strapped with infrared beams (what?) Choppin O's, smokin' lye an' Optimo's Money hoes and clothes all a nigga knows A foolish pleasure, whatever I had to find the buried treasure, so grams I had to measure However living better now, Gucci sweater now Drop top BM's, I'm the man girlfriend Honey check it, tell your friends, to get with my friends And we can be friends, shit we can do this every weekend Aight? Is that aight with you? Yeah, keep bangin' Uh, check it out, nine-fo' shit for dat ass Puff Daddy, Biggie Smalls, Junior M.A.F.I.A, represent baby, baby! Uh
4.
5.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 It's the ten crack commandments, what? Nigga can't tell me nothing about this coke Can't tell me nothing about this crack, this weed, my hustlin' niggas Niggas on the corner I ain't forget you niggas, my triple beam niggas I've been in this game for years, it made me an animal It's rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual A step-by-step booklet for you to get Your game on track, not your wig pushed back Rule Number Uno, never let no one know How much dough you hold cause you know The cheddar breed jealousy 'specially If that man fucked up, get yo' ass stuck up Number 2, never let 'em know your next move Don't you know Bad Boys move in silence and violence? Take it from your highness I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for their bricks and chips Number 3, never trust no-bo-dy Your moms'll set that ass up, properly gassed up Hoodied and masked up, shit, for that fast buck She be laying in the bushes to light that ass up Number 4, I know you heard this before Never get high on your own supply Number 5, never sell no crack where you rest at I don't care if they want a ounce, tell 'em bounce! Number 6, that goddamn credit? Dead it You think a crackhead paying you back, shit forget it! 7, this rule is so underrated Keep your family and business completely separated Money and blood don't mix like 2 dicks and no bitch Find yourself in serious shit Number 8, never keep no weight on you! Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jums too Number 9 shoulda been Number 1 to me, If you ain't gettin' bagged stay the fuck from police If niggas think you snitchin' they ain't trying to listen They be sittin' in your kitchen, waiting to start hittin' Number 10, a strong word called consignment Strictly for live men, not for freshmen If you ain't got the clientele, say "hell no!" 'Cause they gon' want they money rain sleet hail snow Follow these rules you'll have mad bread to break up If not, 24 years on the wake up Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed Your girl fucked my man Jake up, heard in three weeks She sniffed a whole half of cake up Heard she suck a good dick, and can hook a steak up Gotta go gotta go, more pies to bake up, word up
6.
Remember back in the days when niggas had waves Cazal shades and corn braids Pitching pennies, honeys had the high-top jellies Shooting skelly, motherfuckers was all friendly Lounging at the barbecues, drinking brews With the neighborhood crews, hanging on the avenues Turn your pages to 1993 Niggas is getting smoked, G, believe me Talk slick, you get your neck slit quick 'Cause real street niggas ain't having that shit Totin' TECs for rep Smoking blunts in the project hallways Shooting dice all day Waitin' for niggas to step up on some fighting shit We get hype and shit and start lighting shit So step away with your fist-fight ways Motherfucker, this ain't back in the days But you don't hear me though No more coco-levio 1, 2, 3 1, 2, 3, all it is to me, is a mystery I hear you motherfuckers talk about it But I stay seeing bodies with the motherfucking chalk around it And I'm down with the shit too For the stupid motherfuckers want to try to use Kung-Fu Instead of a MAC-10, he tried scrapping Slugs in his back and that's what the fuck happens When you sleep on the street Little motherfuckers with heat wanna leave a nigga six feet deep And we coming to the wake To make sure the crying and commotion ain't a motherfucking fake Back in the days our parents used to take care of us Look at 'em now, they even fuckin' scared of us Calling the city for help because they can't maintain Damn, shit done changed If I wasn't in the rap game I'd probably have a key knee-deep in the crack game Because the streets is a short stop Either you're slinging crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot Shit, it's hard being young from the slums Eating 5 cent gums, not knowing where your meal's coming from And now the shit's getting crazier and major Kids younger than me, they got the Skygrand pagers Going out of town, blowing up Six months later, all the dead bodies showing up It make me wanna grab the 9 and the shotty But I gotta go identify the body Damn, what happened to the summertime cookouts Every time I turn around, a nigga getting took out Shit, my momma got cancer in her breast Don't ask me why I'm motherfucking stressed, things done changed
7.
So you wanna be hardcore With your hat to the back, talkin' 'bout the gats in your raps But I can't feel that hardcore appeal That you're screamin', maybe I'm dreamin' This ain't Christopher Williams, still some MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some To let niggas know, that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy I get up in that ass like a wedgie Says who? Says me, the lyrical Niggas sayin', "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle" Left the drugs alone, took the thugs along with me Just for niggas actin' shifty Sticks and stones break bones, but the gat'll kill you quicker Especially when I'm drunk off the liquor Smokin' funk by the boxes, packin' Glocks is Natural to eat you niggas like chocolates The funk baby All I want is bitches, big booty bitches Used to sell crack, so I could stack my riches Now I pack gats, to stop all the snitches From stayin' in my business, what is this? Relentless approach, to know if I'm broke or not Just 'cause I joke and smoke a lot Don't mean I don't tote the glock Sixteen shots for my niggas in the pen Until we motherfuckin' meet again Huh, I'm doin' rhymes now, fuck the crimes now Come on the ave, I'm real hard to find now 'Cause I'm knee deep in the beats In the Land Cruiser Jeep with the MAC-10 by the seats For the jackers, the jealous ass crackers in the I'll make you prove that it's bulletproof Hold ya head, 'cause when you hit the bricks I got gin, mad blunts, and bitches suckin' dick The funk baby So I guess you know the story, the rap-side, crack-side How I smoked funk, smacked bitches on the backside Bed-Stuy, the place where my head rests Fifty shot clip if a nigga wan' test The rocket launcher, Biggie stomped ya High as a motherfuckin' helicopter That's why I pack a nina, fuck a misdeameanor Beatin' motherfuckers like Ike beat Tina What's love got to do When I'm rippin' all through your whole crew Strapped like bamboo, but I don't sling guns I got bags of funk, and it's sellin' by the tons Niggas wanna know, how I live the mack life Making money smoking mics like crack pipes It's type simple and plain to maintain I add a little funk to the brain The funk baby
8.
I was a terror since the public school era Bathroom passes, cutting classes, squeezing asses Smoking blunts was a daily routine Since thirteen, a chubby nigga on the scene I used to have the tre' duce And the duce duce in my bubble-goose Now I got the mack in my knapsack Loungin' black, smoking sacks up in acts And sidekicks with my sidekicks rocking fly kicks Honeys want to chat But all we want to know is "where the party at?" And can I bring my gat? If not, I hope I don't get shot Betta throw my vest on my chest Cause niggas is a mess It don't take nothin' but frontin' For me to start somethin' Buggin' and barkin' at niggas like I was duck huntin' Dumbing out, just me and my crew Cause all we want to do is [Chorus] Party, and bullshit, and [Repeat: x9] Hugs from the honeys, pounds from the roughnecks Seen my man see that I knew from the projects Said he had beef, asked me if I had my piece Sure do, two .22's in my shoes Holler if you need me love I'm in the house Roam and strollin' see what the honeys is about Moet popping, hoe hopping, ain't no stopping big poppa, I'm a bad boy Niggas want to front, who got your back? (biggie!) Niggas want to flex, who got the gat? (biggie!) It ain't hard to tell I'm the east coast overdoser Nigga you scared you're supposed to Nigga I toast ya, put fear in your heart Fuck up the party before it even start Pissy drunk, off the henny and stuff Or some brand-Nubian shit beatin' down punks! [Chorus] Bitches in the back looking righteous In a tight dress, I think I might just Hit her with a little biggie 101, how to tote a gun And have fun with Jamaican rum Conversations, blunts in rotation My man big Jacques got the glock in his waist and We're smoking, drinking, got the hooker thinking If money smell bad than this nigga biggie stinking Is it my charm? I got the hookers eating out my palm She grabbed my arm and said "let's leave calm" I'm hittin' skins again Rolled up another blunt, bought a Heineken Niggas start to loke out, a kid got choked out Blows was thrown and a fucking fight broke out Can't we just all get along? So I can put hickies on her chest like lil' shawn Get her pissy drunk off of don perrignon And it's on, and I'm gone That's that. Party, and bullshit, (party.) And party, and bullshit, (bullshit.) And party, and bullshit, (party.) And party, and bullshit, (bullshit.) And party, and bullshit, (yea, junior mafia likes that.) And party, and bullshit, And party, and bullshit, (uptown likes that.) And party, and bullshit, And party, and bullshit, (bad boy likes that.) And party, and bullshit, And party, and bullshit, (brooklyn crew likes that.) And party, and bullshit, And party, and bullshit, (third eye likes that.) And party, and bullshit [Repeats]
9.
Who Shot Ya? 03:44
Who shot ya? Seperate the weak from the ob-solete Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet Thundering, shaking the concrete Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots Saw me in the drop, three and a quarter Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter Old school new school need to learn though I burn baby burn like Disco Inferno Burn slow like blunts with yayo Peel more skins than Idaho potato Niggas know, the lyrics molestin' is takin' place Fuckin' with B.I.G. it ain't safe I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land Cruisers Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools Niggas mad because I know that cash rules Everything around me two Glock 9s Any motherfucker whispering about mines And I'm Crooklyn's finest You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this I seen the light excite all the freaks Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps Niggas wanna creep, gotta watch my back Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack? I switches all that, cocksucker G's up One false move, get Swiss cheesed up Clip to TEC, respect I demand it Slip and break the 11th Commandment Thou shalt not fuck with nor see Poppa Feel a thousand deaths when I drop ya I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don Pussy when I want, Rolex on the arm You'll die slow but calm Recognize my face, so there won't be no mistake So you know where to tell Jake, lame nigga Brave nigga, turned front page nigga Puff Daddy flips daily I smoke the blunts he sips on the Baileys On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings Hammer cock, in the fire position and Uhh (check it out) uhh Diamonds on my neck, chrome drop-top Chillin' on the scene, smokin' pounds of green Oooh-wee, you see, the ugliest Money-hungriest, Brooklyn Loch Ness Nine millimeter cock test, wan fi' test? And the winner is Y'all niggas know the rules I blast on niggas so My fist never bruise Land-still-cruise, Frank White paid his dues Ask who's the raw, bet they say Poppa very Look forward to me like commissary All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie Done did it, come widdit, get yo' head splitted Or get your neck slitted, admit it, you overdid it Your shit it, just ain't got that loud Gold tooth shine like taa-dow Biggie Smalls the illest and how, frays raise your eyebrow By now you figure, he talkin' 'bout that nigga But your weak-ass assumptions, lead lead to dumpin' IV to pump-in, you're feeling something Catch my drift, or catch my four-fifth lift At least six inches, above project fences Turn meat to minces, jumps turn to flinches When I rain I drenches, cleared your park benches (HAH) Missed you by pinches (HOO) your talk is senseless (RRUFF) Actor needs chiropractor (HAH, HOO) for cracked jaw Yes I rocked your chatterbox (hah) Dangerous you're not I gets down (HOO) Twist your body round and round, upside down
10.
11.
12.
I'm sittin' in the crib dreamin' about Leer jets and coupes The way Salt shoops and how they sell records like Snoop Oops! I'm interrupted by a doorbell 3:52, who the hell Is this? I gets up quick Cock my shit Stop the dogs from barkin' Then proceed to walkin' Its a face that I seen before My nigga Sing, he used to sling on the 16th floor Check it I look deeper I see blood up on his sneakers And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth So I dip Nigga, is you creepin' or speakin'? He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the beacon I opens up the door, pitiful Is he in critical? Retaliation for this one won't be minimal 'Cause I'm a criminal Way before the rap shit Bust the gat shit Puff won't even know what happened, If it's done smoothly Silencers on the Uzi Stash in the hooptie My alibi, any cutie With a booty that don't fucked Big Pop Head spinnin', reminiscin' bout my man C-Rock Somebody gotta die If I go, you gotta go Somebody gotta die Let the gunshots blow Somebody gotta die Nobody gotta know That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid Somebody gotta die If I go, you gotta go Somebody gotta die Let the gunshots blow Somebody gotta die Nobody gotta know That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid Fillin' clips he explained our situation Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin' Some kid named Jason In a Honda station, wagon Was braggin' About how much loot and crack he stackin' Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique A small crew 'Round the time I was locked up with you True indeed But yo nigga let me proceed Don't fill them clips too high Give them bullets room to breathe Damn where was I? Yeah, run out of town, blew the fuck up D-Rock went home And Jay got stuck the fuck up Hit 'em twice Caught 'em right for the Persian white Pistol whipped his kids And taped up his wife He figured Rock set em up, no question Wet em up no less Than 50 shots in his direction How many shots? Man nigga, I seen mad holes "What kinda gats?" "Heckler & Koch and Calicos" But fuck that I know where all them niggas rest at In the buildin' hustlin' And they don't be strapped Supreme in black Is downstairs, the engine runnin' Find a bag to put the guns in And c'mon if you comin' Somebody gotta die If I go, you gotta go Somebody gotta die Let the gunshots blow Somebody gotta die Nobody gotta know That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid Somebody gotta die If I go, you gotta go Somebody gotta die Let the gunshots blow Somebody gotta die Nobody gotta know That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid Exchanged hugs and pounds before the throw down How it's gonna go down Lay these niggas low-down Slow down Fuck all that plannin' shit Run up in they cribs And make 'em catch the man n shit See niggas like you do ten year bids Miss the nigga they want And murder innocent kids Not I One niggas in my eye That's Jason Ain't no slugs gonna be wasted Revenge I'm tastin' at the tip of my lips I can't wait to feel my clip in his hips Pass the chocolate Thai Sing ain't lie There's Jason with his back to me Talkin' to his faculty I start to get a funny feeling Put the mask on in case his niggas start squealin' Scream his name out Squeeze six knuckles shorter Nigga turned around holdin' his daughter
13.
Dead Wrong 03:54
The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong Relax and take notes, while I take tokes of the marijuana smoke Throw you in a choke, gun smoke, gun smoke Biggie Smalls for mayor, the rap slayer The hooker layer, motherfucker say your prayers Hail Mary full of grace, smack the bitch in the face, Take her Gucci bag and the North Face Off her back, jab her if she act Funny with the money oh you got me mistaken honey I don't wanna rape ya, I just want the paper The Visa, kapeesha? I'm out like, "The Vapors" Who's the one you call Mr. Macho, the head honcho Swift fist like Camacho, I got so Much style I should be down wit the Stylistics Make up to break up niggas need to wake up Smell the Indonesia, beat you to a seizure Then fuck your moms, hit the skins til amnesia She don't remember shit! Just the two hits! Her hittin' the floor, and me hittin' the clits! Suckin' on the tits! Had the hooker beggin' for the dick And your moms ain't ugly love, my dick got rock quick I guess I was a combination of House of Pain and Bobby Brown I was "Humpin' Around" and "Jump-in Around" Jacked her then I asked her who's the man, she said, "B-I-G" Then I bust in her E-Y-E (Yo Big, you're dead wrong) "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wron When I get dusted, I like to spread the blood like mustard Trust it, my hardcore rain leaves you rusted Move over Lucifer, I'm more ruthless, huh Leave your toothless, you'll kibbitz, I'll flip it Tears don't affect me, I hit 'em with the tech G Disrespect me, my potency is deadly I'm shootin' babies, no ifs ands or maybes Hit mummy in the tummy if the hooker plays a dummy Slit the wrist of little sis After she sucked the dick, I stabbed her brother with the icepick Because he wanted me to fuck him from the back But Smalls don't get down like that Got your father hidin' in a room, fucked him with the broom Slit him down the back and threw salt in the wound Who you think you're dealin' with? Anybody step into my path is fuckin' feelin' it! Hardcore, I got it sucked like a pussy Stab ya til you're gushy, so please don't push me I'm using rubbers so they won't trace the semen The black demon, got the little hookers screamin' Because you know I love it young, fresh and green With no hair in between, know what I mean? "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong Ladies and gentlemen There's several different levels to Devil worshippin' horse's heads, Human sacrifices, cannibalism, candles and exorcism Animals havin' sex with 'em, camels mammals and rabbits But I don't get into that, I kick the habit - I just, Beat you to death with weapons that eat through the flesh And I never eat you unless the fuckin', meat looks fresh I got a lion in my pocket, I'm lyin', I got a nine in my pocket And baby I'm just, dyin' to cock him He's ready for war, I'm ready for war I got machetes and swords for any fagot that said he was raw My uz' as, heavy as yours, yeah you met me before I just didn't have as large an arsenal of weapons before Marshall will step in the door, I lay your head on the floor With your body spread on the bedspread, red on the wall Red on the ceilin', red on the floor, get a new whore Met on the second, wet on the third, Then she's dead on the fourth - I'm dead wrong "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" "I don't care what nobody say" The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong The weak or the strong, who got it goin' on You're dead wrong Uh-huh, and we won't stop, because we can't stop
14.
When I die, fuck it, I wanna go to hell 'Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell It don't make sense, goin' to heaven with the goodie-goodies Dressed in white, I like black Timbs and black hoodies God'll prob'ly have me on some real strict shit No sleepin' all day, no gettin' my dick licked Hangin' with the goodie-goodies, loungin' in paradise Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice (You talkin' some crazy shit now, nigga) All my life I been considered as the worst Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion I know my mother wish she got a fuckin' abortion She don't even love me like she did when I was younger (Get a hold of yourself, nigga!) Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger I wonder, if I died, would tears come to her eyes? Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies My baby mother's eight months, her little sister's two Who's to blame for both of them? (Nah, nigga, not you) I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end this bullshit Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit (Nigga, what the fuck?) And squeeze until the bed's completely red (It's too late for this shit, man) I'm glad I'm dead, a worthless fuckin' buddha head The stress is buildin' up, I can't— I can't believe (Yo, I'm on my way over there, man) Suicide's on my fuckin' mind, I wanna leave I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me But nah, you wouldn't understand (Nigga, talk to me please, man!) You see it's kinda like the crack did to Pookie in New Jack Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back (Yo, I'ma call you when I get in the car) Should I die on the train track like Ramo in Beat Street People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me (Ayo, where your girl at, man?) My baby mama kiss me, but she glad I'm gone (Yo, put your girl on the phone, nigga!) She know me and her sister had somethin' goin' on I reach my peak, I can't speak (Ayo, you listenin' to me, motherfucker?) Call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak (Ayo, c'mon, nigga) I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin' Matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin' (Ayo Big! Ayo Big!) Please hang up, and try your call again Please hang up, this is a recording

about

"Now you call me Castro"
Christopher George Latore Wallace

MMXIX MDR Recordings

credits

released March 6, 2019

Irn Mnky

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Irn Mnky UK

UK
MDR Recordings

contact / help

Contact Irn Mnky

Streaming and
Download help

Shipping and returns

Redeem code

Report this album or account

Irn Mnky recommends:

If you like The Life Of Castro, you may also like: