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
