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/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...