Classic Verses Songtext
von Big Pun

Yo, my squad is honored like Elijah Muhammad
But I′m God-retarded, ain't no righteousness in this heart of violence
Hard as diamond but I′m in the ruff, listen up
If you ever see me with the Feds you can bet it's in the cuffs
Ain't no snitch in us, bitch in us
Unofficial-ness, everything we outside you wish you was
Official thugs in the drug profession
Drug connections, drug addictions
Still seein the judge for drug possession
The four-D′s, all these is more reas′
To either get big, or leave and let live
We the best there is T.S., ain't nobody else
We probably Dove, cause we all way on top of the shelf
I′m lockin your wealth with the master keys, freeze
Don't try to breeze, or I′ma squeeze and blast the back of your knees
Just pass the cheese, please don't test the toaster
My tech′ll roast ya body faster than Ferrari's Testarossa You're gettin closer to death, Reaper′s got a hold on your breath
You goin straight to hell as you sell your soul for your flesh
You was posin a threat, now you froze in the bed
Minute ago, you was poppin shit, holdin ya dick
Now what′s the problem, you ain't nuttin like you said on your album
I thought you was wildin bustin your guns and runnin the island
You was′t violent, you was silent tryin to get college credits
How pathetic, did it to get out of the calisthetics
My matureness is my insurance
Kill my appearance, I'm a shinin spirit
You gotta fear it, cause every last gem is poison
You gotta cheer it, you can′t win you better join em
I'm head-annointin niggas like the Holy Gospel
I′m the only vato loco to smoke you with fire-blowin nostrils
Watch for the toast, when you see it, you better draw yours
Warlords, callin The Giant, it's all yours


Fuck all y'all non-believers; I roll with God, the Squad and T.S.
Out with the B.S. we platinum, they even doubted Jesus
Niggas is 85%, I′m 400 solid
Brain-bolic with knowledge, cock-diesel scholars
Holdin it down, walkin around with gold by the pound
Frozen and drowned with diamond boulders all in the crown
Talk of the town, soakin you down wit toast ′til you drown
Ghost you and pound your corpse with a force that'll open the ground
Save the jokes for the clowns, I′m on the serious tip
You keep playin. and I get furious quick
And now I take you for a walk through the ghetto
Either spark your metal or get outlined in chalk by the devil
I rep the borough that mothered this rap shit, I used to clap shit
Now I just lay back and mack on some mack shit
I used to have to pack a mac in back of the Ac(ura)
Now I relax and stack platinum plaques in my shack
It's like that, but don′t think I won't counter act
My niggaz is strapped and quick to lay a bitch on his back
I′m swift with the mac, quicker than Kung Fu
With the reflexes of a cat, and the speed of a mongoose