* I remember exactly where I was when I first heard this track...everyone in the car was like 
People sleep so much on the Hitmen because of the very big pop records they did and some records that sounded like simple samples + drum kit mix repeat. If you REALLY need to make the case that BIG was the best ever this may be Exhibit A 
[Intro: Puffy]
As we proceed to give you what you need
[Verse 1]
Who shot ya? Separate the weak from the obsolete
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
Then the shit stop when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, 3 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 lyrical molesting is taking place
Fucking 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 9's
Any motherfucker whispering about mines
And I'm Crooklyn's finest
You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this
[Verse 2]
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 Bailey's
On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings
Hammer cock, in the fire position and...
[Outro]
Come here, come here, (It ain't gotta be like that Big)
Open your fucking mouth, open your, didn't I tell you
Don't fuck with me? (Come on man)
Huh? Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (Come on man)
Look at you now, huh? (Come on man)
Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh?
Bitch-ass nigga, what?.. Who shot ya?
People sleep so much on the Hitmen because of the very big pop records they did and some records that sounded like simple samples + drum kit mix repeat. If you REALLY need to make the case that BIG was the best ever this may be Exhibit A <iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Y7yQwQtSN7M" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
[Intro: Puffy]
As we proceed to give you what you need
[Verse 1]
Who shot ya? Separate the weak from the obsolete
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
Then the shit stop when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, 3 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 lyrical molesting is taking place
Fucking 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 9's
Any motherfucker whispering about mines
And I'm Crooklyn's finest
You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this
[Verse 2]
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 Bailey's
On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings
Hammer cock, in the fire position and...
[Outro]
Come here, come here, (It ain't gotta be like that Big)
Open your fucking mouth, open your, didn't I tell you
Don't fuck with me? (Come on man)
Huh? Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (Come on man)
Look at you now, huh? (Come on man)
Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh?
Bitch-ass nigga, what?.. Who shot ya?
