The Notorious B.I.G., Ice Cube, Black Rob and Beanie Sigel - If I Should Die Before I Wake

Uhh, uh
Yeah
Uhh, uhh
Uh! Yeah, yeah
Uhh
I'm on
Fuck 'em, yeah, uhh
With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Fuck her, never knew her
Screw her, (dump her body, dump her body) sewer
Our father, uh-huh

What you expected from his next of kin
I'm loco bro, but ain't no Mexican
I got nines in the bedroom, Glocks in the kitchen
A shotty by the shower if you wanna shoot me while I'm shittin'
Uhh, the lesson from the Smith and Wesson is depressin'
Niggas keep stressin', the same motherfuckin' question
How many shots does it take, to make my heart stop
And my body start to shake, if I should die before I wake

With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake
With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake

Fluck that
Snap a nigga shit, smash him with the fifth, watch his body lift
Shut his hottie's lips, bitch screamin', hit her body quick
Got me like the trifest not knowin' how my life is
My life is, rap sheet long as the Turnpike is
The sheistest, hey fella, who bidded with the lifers
Did it with the Glocks, spit it witcha pops, you was in diapers
Loved me when you came to Rikers
Hated me all in the free cypher, mad you can't be like us
Some murderers who turn bikers, see Biggie Smalls
Recruited these snipers, alumni do it just like us
Some pied pipers, squeezin' life out y'all
It's all out war, be all wild as all outdoor
If a coward got beef, y'all be checkin' his palm
Paralyzin, my niggas thorough kid, how 'bout yours?
Real quick to screw a nigga then, hop out four
Clean the wipers, hit the party up and, hop out yours
Bitch nigga, whoah

With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake
With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake

Yo when you fuckin' wit MAC, you fuckin' wit the best
Still goin' to war with them dusty TECs
Man you know how I handle my shit, S.K. can on my shit
Jump out of vans like Hannibal Smith
Man I spit a thousand rounds, your squad don't need it
Shredders in a riot pump leave you quadriplegic
When I squeeze don't breathe keep it lined and even
So when niggas get hit, they be cryin' screamin'
Lyin' bleedin', from that iron steamin'
And I ain't tryin' to hear that bullshit, I ain't mean it
Niggas start bitchin', when that pistol in they face
Or I sick two pits to come and get you in your place
If I catch you in my shit, I'm wakin' my bitch
Hear take this shit, crackin' the brick, facin' that shit
Takin' two sniffs, grabbin' my shit
Best believe if I get hit, y'all niggas takin' some shit
Picture niggas takin' my shit

With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake
With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake

Niggas never thought they'd see Cube and Biggie
In the year 2000, all drunk and pissy
Off whiskey, you can miss me, actin' gay
He's the King of New York, I'm the King of L.A.
Doin' it the OG way, it's sorta like
The Brooklyn Way, it's just the crook in me
So this is dedicated to the memory of
The Notorious One, the glorious one
And if you go for your gun, I got to go for mine
Cock my nine, and seperate yo' head from yo' spine
So, "Grab yo' dicks if you love hip-hop" and
Fuck you niggas that shot Big Pop'
The conspiracy, of this nation, for assassination
Of the young black male in this black hell
And I can tell, no matter the weather
That you and Tupac got yo' shit together
California Love

With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake
With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit
Our father, if I should die before I wake

Written by:
O'SHEA JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER WALLACE, HENRI CHARLEMAGNE, ERIC MATLOCK, DERIC MICHAEL ANGELETTIE, DWIGHT GRANT, ROBERT ROSS

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Spirit Music Group, Songtrust Ave

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