The Notorious B.I.G. - Ten Crack Commandments lyrics
The Notorious B.I.G. [Christopher George Latore Wallace] Brooklyn, New York City, U.S. 🇺🇸
[The Notorious B.I.G. - Ten Crack Commandments lyrics]
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
It's the ten crack commandments, what?
Nigga can't tell me nothing about this coke
Can't tell me nothing about
This crack, this weed
For my hustlin' niggas
Niggas on the corner I
Ain't forget you niggas
My triple beam niggas
I've been in this game for years
It made me a animal
There's rules to this shit
I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
Your game on track, not your wig pushed back
Rule Nombre Uno: never let no one know
How much dough you hold 'cause you know
The cheddar breed jealousy 'specially
If that man fucked up, get yo' ass stuck up
Number Two: never let 'em know your next move
Don't you know bad boys move
In silence and violence?
Take it from your highness (Uh, huh)
I done squeezed mad clips at these
Cats for they bricks and chips
Number Three: never trust nobody
Your moms'll set that ass up
Properly gassed up
Hoodied and masked up, shit
For that fast buck
She be laying in the bushes
To light that ass up
Number Four: I know you heard this before
"Never get high on your own supply"
Number Five: never sell no crack
Where you rest at
I don't care if they want an ounce, tell 'em
"Bounce!"
Number Six: that goddamn credit? Dead it
You think a crackhead paying you back? Shit
Forget it seven: this rule is so underrated
Keep your family and
Business completely separated
Money and blood don't mix like
Two dicks and no bitch
Find yourself in serious shit
Number Eight: never keep no weight on you
Them cats that squeeze your guns
Can hold jums too
Number Nine shoulda been Number One to me:
If you ain't gettin' bagged
Stay the fuck from police
If niggas think you snitchin'
They ain't tryna listen
They be sittin' in your kitchen
Waiting to start hittin'
Number Ten: a strong
Word called 'consignment'
Strictly for live men, not for freshmen
If you ain't got the clientele, say
"Hell no!" 'Cause they gon' want they
Money rain, sleet, hail, snow
Follow these rules you'll have mad
Bread to break up
If not, twenty-four years on the wake up
Slug hit your temple
Watch your frame shake up
Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed
Your girl fucked my man Jake up
Heard in three weeks
She sniffed a whole half a cake up
Heard she suck a good dick
And can hook a steak up
Gotta go, gotta go, more pies to bake up
Word up (Uh)
Crack King, Frank Wiz-zhite
(1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 1010)
It's the ten crack commandments, what?
Nigga can't tell me nothing about this coke
Can't tell me nothing about
This crack, this weed
For my hustlin' niggas
Niggas on the corner I
Ain't forget you niggas
My triple beam niggas
I've been in this game for years
It made me a animal
There's rules to this shit
I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
Your game on track, not your wig pushed back
Rule Nombre Uno: never let no one know
How much dough you hold 'cause you know
The cheddar breed jealousy 'specially
If that man fucked up, get yo' ass stuck up
Number Two: never let 'em know your next move
Don't you know bad boys move
In silence and violence?
Take it from your highness (Uh, huh)
I done squeezed mad clips at these
Cats for they bricks and chips
Number Three: never trust nobody
Your moms'll set that ass up
Properly gassed up
Hoodied and masked up, shit
For that fast buck
She be laying in the bushes
To light that ass up
Number Four: I know you heard this before
"Never get high on your own supply"
Number Five: never sell no crack
Where you rest at
I don't care if they want an ounce, tell 'em
"Bounce!"
Number Six: that goddamn credit? Dead it
You think a crackhead paying you back? Shit
Forget it seven: this rule is so underrated
Keep your family and
Business completely separated
Money and blood don't mix like
Two dicks and no bitch
Find yourself in serious shit
Number Eight: never keep no weight on you
Them cats that squeeze your guns
Can hold jums too
Number Nine shoulda been Number One to me:
If you ain't gettin' bagged
Stay the fuck from police
If niggas think you snitchin'
They ain't tryna listen
They be sittin' in your kitchen
Waiting to start hittin'
Number Ten: a strong
Word called 'consignment'
Strictly for live men, not for freshmen
If you ain't got the clientele, say
"Hell no!" 'Cause they gon' want they
Money rain, sleet, hail, snow
Follow these rules you'll have mad
Bread to break up
If not, twenty-four years on the wake up
Slug hit your temple
Watch your frame shake up
Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed
Your girl fucked my man Jake up
Heard in three weeks
She sniffed a whole half a cake up
Heard she suck a good dick
And can hook a steak up
Gotta go, gotta go, more pies to bake up
Word up (Uh)
Crack King, Frank Wiz-zhite
(1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 1010)