| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
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| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
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| Now, I was broke as a motherfucker, my life at the end, see?
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| My so-called friends, they had no ends to lend me
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| My job at Micky D’s was fuckin' me with no grease
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| I worked so fuckin' hard, but the money, it never increased
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| I quit my fuckin' job, I have no job, nigga
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| Put on the mask, get the Glock, it’s time to rob, nigga
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| I hit the streets, but no victim had been chosen
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| Damn I was nervous, but my fear didn’t stop my strollin'
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| Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I was struck
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| I felt the burn of bullets, so I knew I had got bucked
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| Reachin' for my Glock, some nigga kicked me in my chest
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| My eyes closed shut, and I thought I seen death
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| I woke up at the med still woozy from the jackin'
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| Duprano walked in, he told me what had happened
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| I knew him from the hood, I did not know him well
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| He drove a red Jag, I heartd that he was bale
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| He said he was out rollin' when he seen me in distress
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| He said he killed them motherfuckin' niggas with his TEC
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| He offered me a job, said he’d front me what I needed
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| I said that I was with it, dreamin' one day I would be Mr. Big
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| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
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| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, but not because of my gig
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| I put it all on the line, and ain’t no time to renege
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| I had dreams as a kid of one day movin' the bricks
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| Bad chicks in the mansion with cameras watchin' the crib
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| I called my big bro Duprano, and now I live like Soprano
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| I got my hands on them keys, I’m tryna work the piano
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| I used to watch on TV, but now I’m on every channel
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| God granted my wishes, just like I blew out a candle
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| It’s my birthday, you bitches, and on the turf I’m that nigga
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| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, but Mr. Big just got bigger
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| I grew up on that jam ball, I scratched my CD and all
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| Screamin' out Mr. Big and cuffin' a key of raw
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| Passin', I’m laughin', cool air with you motherfuckers
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| Cheeto Gambine, I’m Mr. Big to you motherfuckers
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| Top order cribs, a million dollar garages
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| Top pack on Hebrew, tuxedos and hard bottles
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| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big
|
| (But not because of my size)
|
| Mr. Big, Mr. Big, they call me Mr. Big |