Oh My Lord

[Verse 1: Kleptomaniac] Why niggas wanna clock me? Like that dance called the Tati? Don't they know I break motherfuckers into parts like Rocky? Part I, Part II, Part III — niggas can't fuck with me My style's knock-kneed plum crazy! (What?) Who's that wild-ass motherfucker catchin' wreck? Stickin' Jamaicans for sound sets outside discotheques It's Klep — the death specialist, Stallone and Stone shit Stayin' high, representin' for the nine-quint Rap's bad guy, burns the house down like Left Eye Why try mimic? MC's get broke like speed limits (Uhh) Niggas can't fuck with my metaphors Canin' MC's like they in Singapore Klep been through more wars than Gump and Shore Put together, catchin' leathers on the regular Got that net, push me 'round and Dread stressin' a trick ho What the Dread won't know won't hurt Robbin his workers for they work Now... WHOSE TURF IS THIS? It's Klep's, the clothes wreckers' Life interceptor, pussy collector (Uhh) Got yo' bitch on my dick and I ain't even stressin' her Check enough sex in her, my style's irregular Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique moves in like the settlers [Chorus] Niggas say "Oh my lord!" [Verse 2: The Notorious B.I.G.] Throw gats to Giuliani Flow's tighter than pigeon punani Try me? Die, G! Dangerous! Since my daddy bust me out the tip of his dick Biggie Smalls with the wickedest shit Spit clips, niggas split like bananas Flavor like Tropicana; orange, mango, peach I strangle each negro for they dough Niggas get to bendin', got two cases, one pendin' 560 V-12 engine Women spinnin' in 929 Mazda's — Tammy and Natasha The ménage à trois' around my way Like Ill and Al Skratch smokin' 50 sacks in the back of Ac's Windows cracked, so sit back, relax! Yo, Vec, crush the hash, the Beretta's in the stash [Chorus] Niggas say "Oh my lord!" Niggas say "Oh my lord!" Niggas say "Oh my lord!" Niggas say "Oh my lord!" [Verse 3: Kleptomaniac] What you doin' with yourself? Stone heart's the way to wealth Indecisive thoughts make sentences get dealt Money makes the world go 'round, robbin' shit Fuck a job shit! Niggas want cribs, bricks and spliffs All-wheel automobiles, traction control for clay roads Rollin' with dough Kickin' game on the cell with bitches on hold That's how we roll (Uhh) Rhyme style tight as hell, so to the bank I stroll (Uhh) Money on my mind Open lids from my eyes reveal pupils shaped like dollar signs [Verse 4: The Notorious B.I.G.] The world is mine! Niggas frontin' feelin' twelve gauge pellets B.I.G. is repellent to all that "He say, she say" We play Russian roulette, fuck the threat! Your whole crew's vagina — you and your co-signer Nigga, we rollin' in eight-and-a-half's, TV's in the dash Three G's in the stash, see, we love the cash More coke to make some more [Chorus] Niggas say "Oh my lord!" [Verse 5: Kleptomaniac] Niggas don't know 'bout my game They don't know how complex it is Baggin' bitches in GS 300 Lexuses And the sex is for summer sports Passports for drug transports to remote resorts Bitches with Donna Karan 'Catwoman' suits Matchin' figure boots Haircut cute, on tops and garters like prostitutes My lyrics explicit Got bitches bringin' they own condoms on the first visit [Verse 6: The Notorious B.I.G.] If Biggie bring big bowls of beef Backin' bitch niggas down, burners bring bundles of belief Common thief slash drug chief, syndicated Went from 10k to 24k, and motherfuckers hate it J.M. sedated, quarantined (Uhh) B.I.G. for President, buckin' shots past the spleen .9mm dream, MAC-11 nightmares Electric chairs, which MC's do you fear? Big Poppa, Junior M.A.F.I.A., 'nuff said Niggas disrespect just are dead