text: Yes its me, the B.I.G
  Competition ripper ever since 13
  Used to steal clothes was considered a thief
  Until I started hustlin on Fulton Street
  Makin loot, knockin boots on the regular
  Pass the microphone Im the perfect competitor
  Jewels and all that, my clothes is all that
  Chumps steppin to me, thats where they took a FALL at!
  B.I.G. without burner, thats unheard of
  I stay close to mine like Tina on Turner
  Quick to smother, a punk motherfucker
  Undercover, word to mother, Im above ya
  And I love ya, cause youre a sweet bitch
  A crazy crab, the type to make my dick itch
  I flow looser than Luther, words ya get used ta
  B.I.G. is a born trooper
  Like ice cream I scoop ya, my music you wanna get loose ta
  Stay dipped, and Im not a booster
  So whatcha got to say? This mackin word is bond
  Theres no other assumption, I got it going on
  Im not conceited, my friends tell me this
  Even my mother, be noddin her head to this
  Makes her proud to see her one son get loud
  Flip on a sucker, and bow to the crowd
  Drink a little Hennessy, smoke a blunt or 2 or 3 or 4
  Live in action, guaranteed RAW