🎵 Big Beast // by Killer Mike

78 ContributorsBig Beast Lyrics Released February 13, 2012, “Big Beast” is the first single off Killer Mike’s 2012 album R.A.P. Music. Produced by El-P, this song is the first musical collaboration between the duo that would become Run the… Read More  [Verse 1: Killer Mike] Hardcore G shit, homie, I don't play around Ain't shit sweet bout the peach -- this Atlanta, clown Home of the dealers and the strippers and the clubs, though Catch you coming out that Magic City with a snub, ho Lurking in the club on tourist motherfuckers Welcome to Atlanta, up your jewelry, motherfucker! These monkey niggas looking for some Luda and Jermaine And all that nigga found was a Ruger and some pain Pow, motherfucker, pow! Come up off the chain (ay, ay) Pow, motherfucker, pow! One off in the brain (ay, ay) We some money-hungry wolves, and we down to eat the rich Your bodyguard ain't shit, we strip him like a stripper bitch These real-ass killers move in silence with violence The minute it set off, we the motherfucking wildest How you from Atlanta they ain't never speak a pun Where everybody got a sack of dope and a gun [Chorus: Trouble] And you know just how it go We ain't playing round with that bullshit Nigga, we ain't let that shit go When you come here, you better come correct This real G shit, you gotta show respect [Verse 2: Bun B] Once upon a time in the projects An O.G. saw a young Bun B as a prospect Thought that I would understand the streets from a very young age So he opened up the G code to the front page He sat me on the porch, said, "This where little dogs sit" Pointed at the yard (yard), said, "That's where big dogs shit" (shit) He said, "Don't leave 'til your ass get growed And don't come back 'til your ass get throwed Whatever you want is whatever you can have Bring the pain and leave 'em wet, like they soaking in some salve When you step out on the ave (ave) Make sure they wanna see ya (wanna see ya) 'Cause being trill is an onomatopoeia Be about it like a G, a hater wanna catch you slipping Try to be a Jordan (Jordan), but settle for a Pippen" Player, I ain't even tripping, but I don't really care 'Cause my pistol's in your face, so put your hands in the air [Chorus: Trouble] And you know just how it go We ain't playing round with that bullshit Nigga, we ain't let that shit go When you come here, you better come correct This real G shit, you gotta show respect [Verse 3: T.I.] '96 I'm riding with a pistol grip, banana clip From Simpson Road to Adamsville, I'm repping this Atlanta shit Nigga trying to handle up, let's see can they handle this A hundred round at 'em, that ain't no Louisiana shit Drinking on that Hennessey, blowing on that cannabis Amerikkka's nightmare, trap nigga fantasy A record full of felonies, searching for a better me But choppers go off in my hood like Iraq, Cuba, Tel Aviv Shoot a nigga, let him bleed; fuck him, shorty Sucka nigga, I'll never be, don't give a fuck about it Quick to run up on that Audi, make 'em get the fuck up out it Nigga better be about it, he deserve it, he allow it What's a coward to a kamikaze? He ain't robbed a man Ain't predator or prey; the law of nature where I stay I catch you slipping with that K, ain't no illusion, no confusion Better come up off that cake and all that jewelry or you snoozing [Chorus: Trouble] And you know just how it go We ain't playing round with that bullshit Nigga, we ain't let that shit go When you come here, you better come correct This real G shit, you gotta show respect [Verse 4: Killer Mike] Wha-da-dang, wha-da-da-da-da-dang Listen to my Kimber .45 go bang Bang bang, Grindtime, rap gang We the readers of the books and the leaders of the crooks Predators, we eyeballing all of y'all lames Let me fall off, I'm taking all of y'all chains All of y'all watches and all of y'all cars Well, who he talking to? All of y'all stars All of y'all rappers and producers and such No homo promo, homie, you might get your ass touched Like Def Jam circa '83, you get rushed If you rolling with some winners, then you rolling with us I know some dumb country niggas, but them niggas ain't me Know they dress and look the part, but them niggas ain't G I don't make dance music, this is R.A.P.! Opposite of the sucker shit they play on T.V.! [Chorus: Trouble] And you know just how it go We ain't playing round with that bullshit Nigga, we ain't let that shit go When you come here, you better come correct This real G shit, you gotta show respect