MMD September 1, 2014 0

The Notorious B.I.G is remembered as one of the, if not the, greatest MC in the history of hip-hop. From the moment he stepped foot on the scene, the hip-hop community knew they had something special on their hands. His husky voice moved over beats as if it was programmed by a computer, effortlessly. It was like an instrument, as if Biggie’s flow was part of the beat. In his short career he released two classic albums that still bump to this day. While Biggie’s career is filled with classic verses we at Men’s Mag Daily did our best to narrow it down to his greatest 10. Without further ado, we present Biggie’s 10 Greatest Verses Ever.


1. Ready to Die/ Big Poppa

This song made the big dudes fly. Biggie established himself as a fly ladies’ man and this was one of his first crossover hits. Tremendous cream, fuck a dollar and a dream? Does it get any slicker than that? That line alone gets this verse a spot on the list.

(How ya livin’ Biggie Smalls?) In mansions 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

Choppin’ o’s, smokin’ la and Optimos

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, Coogi sweater now

Drop top BM’s, I’m the man girlfriend


2. Ready to Die/ Gimme the Loot

Leave it up to Biggie to rap as two different people and both of them are dope. This song was so hard and Biggie put a new spin on hardcore hip-hop.

Big up, big up, it’s a stick up, stick up

And I’m shooting niggas quick if you hiccup

Don’t let me throw my clip up in your back and head piece

The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath

You’re talking to the robbery expert

Step in to your wake with your blood on my shirt

Don’t be a jerk and get smoked over bein’ resistant

‘Cause when I lick shots the shits is persistent

Goodness gracious the papers

Where the cash at? Where the stash at?

Nigga pass that before you get your grave dug

From the main thug, .357 slug

And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip

One in the chamber, 32 in the clip

Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel

Before you find out how blue steel feel

From the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater

The money getter motherfuckers don’t have better

Rolex watches and colorful Swatches

I’m digging in pockets, motherfuckers can’t stop it

Man, niggas come through I’m taking high school rings too

Bitches get strangled for they earrings and bangles

And when I rock her and drop her I’m taking her door knockers

And if she’s resistant “baka! baka! baka!”

So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too

Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?

I hope apologetic or I’m a have to set it

And if I set it the cocksucker won’t forget it


3. Hypnotize/ Life After Death

No doubt heavily influenced by Puff, Big still made this his own. One of Biggie’s greatest talents was to take songs with mass pop appeal and keep them street and lyrical.

Hah, sicker than your average Poppa

Twist cabbage off instinct niggas don’t think shit stink

Pink gators, my Detroit players

Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn

Dead right, if the head right, Biggie there ery’night

Poppa been smooth since days of Underoos

Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who

Do something to us, talk go through us

Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us

Who us?  Yeah, Poppa and Puff

Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick the clutch

Dare I squeeze three at your cherry M-3

Bang every MC easily, busily

Recently niggas frontin’ ain’t sayin’ nothin’

So I just speak my peace, keep my piece

Cubans with the Jesus piece, with my peeps

Packin’, askin’ who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it

That Brooklyn bullshit, we on it


4.Notorious Thugs/ Life After Death

Another one of Biggie’s greatest talents was being able to master any style. On this track he’s able to keep up with the tongue twisting flow of Bone Thugs N Harmony without simply copying them. He took the style, flipped it, and made it hot.

Armed and dangerous, ain’t too many can bang with us

Straight up weed no angel dust, label us Notorious

Thug ass niggas that love to bust, it’s strange to us

Y’all niggas be scramblin’, gamblin’

Up in restaurants with mandolins, and violins

We just sittin’ here tryin’ to win, tryin’ not to sin

High off weed and lots of gin

So much smoke need oxygen, steadily countin’ them Benjamins

Nigga you should too, if you knew

What this game’ll do to you

Been in this shit since ninety-two

Look at all the bullshit I been through

So-called beef with you know who

Fucked a few female stars or two

Nigga, blue light, nigga, move like Mike, shit

Not to be fucked with

Motherfucker better duck quick, ‘cause

Me and my dogs love to buck shit

Fuck the luck shit, strictly aim

No aspirations to quit the game

Spit yo’ game, talk yo’ shit

Grab yo’ gat, call yo’ click

Squeeze yo’ clip, hit the right one

Pass that weed, I got to light one

All them niggas I got to fight one

All them hoes I got to like one

Our situation is a tight one

What you gonna do, fight or run?

Seems to me that you’ll take B

Bone and Big, nigga die slowly

I’ma tell you like a nigga told me

Cash Rule Everything around Me

Shit, lyrically, niggas can’t see me

Fuck it, buy the coke

Cook the coke, cut it

Know the bitch ‘fore you caught yourself lovin’ it

Nigga with a Benz fuckin’ it

Doesn’t it seem odd to you?

Big come through with mobs and crews

Goodfellas down to the Mo Thugs dudes

Who’s the killa, me or you?


5.Who Shot Ya?/ Born Again

Was it a dis towards ‘Pac or was it not? Who really cares with a song this dope? Biggie killed it.

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

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 ya-yo

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 nines

Any motherfucker whisperin’ about mines

And I’m, Crooklyn’s finest

You rewind this, Bad Boy’s behind this


6.Ten Crack Commandments/ Life After Death

This is technically more than a verse but how could we leave it out? This is one of the most definitive street anthems in the history of hip-hop music, every hustler’s musical handbook.

I been in this game for years, it made me a 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 nombre uno never let no one know

How much, dough you hold, ‘cause you know

The chedda breed jealousy ‘specially

If that man fucked up, get your ass stuck up

Number two never let ‘em know your next move

Don’t you know Bad Boys move in silence or violence

Take it from your highness

I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips

Number three never trust no-bo-dy

Your moms’ll set that ass up, properly gassed up

Hoodie to mask up, shit, for that fast buck

She be layin’ in the bushes to light that ass up

Number four know you heard this before

Never get high, on your own supply

Number five never sell no crack where you rest at

I don’t care if they want a ounce, tell ‘em bounce

Number six that god damn credit, dead it

You think a crackhead payin’ you back, shit forget it

Seven this rule is so underrated

Keep your family and business completely separated

Money and blood don’t mix like two dicks and no bitch

Find yourself in serious shit

Number eight never keep no weight on you

Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jobs too

Number nine shoulda been number one to me

If you ain’t getting’ bagged stay the fuck from police

If niggas think you snitchin’ ain’t tryin’ to listen

They be sittin’ in your kitchen, waitin’ to start hittin’

Number ten a strong word called consignment

Strictly for live men, not for freshmen

If you ain’t got the clientele say hell no

Cause they gonna want they money rain sleet hail snow

Follow these rules you’ll have mad bread to break up

If not, twenty-four years, on the wake up

Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up

Caretaker did your makeup, when you pass

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, uhh


7.Juicy/ Ready To Die

This was Biggie’s victory lap after blowing up and it’s a classic amongst classics. There’s not a crowd of hip-hop fans in the world that won’t go crazy if the DJ drops this joint.

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 and bamboo, 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, Brucey B, Kid Capri

Funkmaster Flex, Lovebug Starsky

I’m blowin’ up like you thought I would

Call the crib, same number same hood

It’s all good


8.Warning/ Ready To Die

Not only does Biggie do the whole two people rapping thing again but he puts his storytelling abilities on display, yet another classic.

Who the fuck is this? Pagin’ me at 5:46

In the mornin’, crack of dawn and

Now I’m yawnin’, wipe the cold out my eye

See who’s this pagin’ me and why

It’s my nigga Pop from the barbershop

Told me he was in the gamblin’ spot, and heard the intricate plot

Of niggas wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor

Slow down love, please chill, drop the caper

Remember them niggas from the hill up in Brownsville?

That you rolled dice wit, smoked the blunts and got nice wit

Yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect

Nah them my niggas nah love wouldn’t disrespect

I didn’t say them, they schooled me to some niggas

That you knew from back when, when you was clockin’ minor figures

Now they heard you blowin’ up like nitro

And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow

So thank Fame for warnin’ me cause now I’m warnin’ you

I got the mac nigga tell me what you gonna do


9.Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems/ Life After Death

Sure, this is one of the most commercial hip-hop songs of all time but find me a group of hardcore hip-hop heads who can’t recite every word to this verse.

B.I.G., P-O, P-P-A

No info, for the, DEA

Federal agents mad ‘cause I’m flagrant

Tap my cell, and the phone in the basement

My team supreme, stay clean

Triple beam lyrical dream, I be that

Cat you see at all events bent

Gats in holsters girls on shoulders

Playboy, I told ya, mere mics to me

Bruise too much, I lose, too much

Step on stage the girls boo too much

I guess it’s cause you run with lame dudes too much

Me lose my touch, never that

If I did, ain’t no problem to get the gat

Where the true playas at?

Throw your Rollies in the sky

Wave ‘em side to side and keep your hands high

While I give your girl the eye, playa please

Lyrically, nigga see, B.I.G.

Be flossin’ jig on the cover of Fortune

Five double oh, here’s my phone number

Your man ain’t got to know, I got to go

Got the flow down pizzat, platinum plus

Like thizzat, dangerous

On trizzack, leave your ass flizzat


10.What’s Beef?/ Life After Death

Another hood classic, this song is one of Big’s hardest and a favorite amongst die-hard fans of Biggie Smalls.

Ha ha ha ha ha, check out this bizarre

Rapper style used by me, the B.I.G.

I put my key you put your key in, money we’ll be seein’

Will reach the fuckin’ ceiling, check, check it

My Calico been cocked this rap Alfred Hitchcock

Drop top notch playa hating won’t stop

This instant, rappers too persistent

Quick to spit Biggie name on shit, make my name taste

Like ass when you speak it, see me in the street

Your jewelry you can keep it, that be our little secret

See me, B that is, I that is, G whiz

Motherfuckers still in my biz

Don’t they know my nigga Gutter fuckin kidnap kids?

Fuck ‘em in the ass, throw ‘em over the bridge

That’s how it is, my shit is laid out

Fuck that beef shit, that shit is played out

Y’all got the gall, all I make is one phone call

All y’all disappear by tomorrow

All your guns is borrowed, I don’t feel sorrow

Actually, your man passed the gat to me, now check this

Article By: Jon DaBove

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