Young G’s Lyrics

[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G.]
Uh, check it out, uhh (Man, I'm back, man)
I steps in, where the Mo' and the hoes at, baby? (Fuck all that pretty shit)
Taking it back to the gutter for you motherfuckers (Niggas know the deal)
Niggas know who the Don is (Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest one)
Peep game, uh, what, what, what

[Verse 1: Puff Daddy]
Out of this world like Mars when I spit these bars
Come fuck with these stars up in luxury cars (Yeah)

With built-in radars to stay free from the cops
Crucial choices to make, like AC or the drop? (Haha)
Are we gon' stop? Shit, man, never my squad go broke
Your squad oughta choke, watch your circle vanish like cigar smoke
Ain't no joke when your ones don't show
Nigga, I know, might say, "Been there, done that" like Dre (Uh-huh)
Through hard work, I earn the vault
Promise God to never look back, or I turn to salt (Yeah)
Got nice watches, nice cars, nice bitches, and rings (C'mon)
Guess it's safe to say a nigga like me got nice things (That's right)
Can't relate to motherfuckers who ain't go no cake (Uh-uh)
When you all fucked up and can't get no break (Uh-huh)
When your fake-ass friends don't help you out when you need it
Be on some real bullshit, politely tell you to beat it (Uh)
Fuck that, get your own, nigga, don't ask me for shit
That's what I did, now they all asking for hits (Yeah)
Nigga, it's on for the simple fact I let it be known
We still fly, but separately, 'cause now I charter my own (C'mon)
Propellers, goodfellas, leave all 'em player-haters jealous
Billboard charts should tell us (Yeah)
They can't touch us
, why niggas bring the ruckus?
Because release dates' bigger than Mandela's, motherfuckers

[Chorus: Kelly Price & Jay-Z]
Just some ghetto boys
Living in these ghetto streets (These ghetto streets)
And every day, they gotta fight to stay alive
It's just reality
(Yeah, make you a deal, check)

[Verse 2: Jay-Z]
These here's the dog years and motherfuckers don't shed
I try to bring you life, but motherfuckers want dead
So I travel with the barrel, with the chrome, with the lead
'Cause when it's on, then it's on, the shots flown through your head
I been rich, I been poor, I saved and blown bread
Some say I been here before because of the way I zone

Some said Jigga's zone's like the falling of Rome
Reoccurring, that he thinks like that 'cause he's observant
Won't be known until I'm gone and niggas study my bones
Mentally, been many places, but I'm Brooklyn's own
In the physical, unseen like Allah's body
In fact, my thoughts don't differ much from that of God Body
But it's the R-shotty that got cats likening me to the mob John Gotti
Rap dudes biting me 'cause
I got it locked like the late Bob Marley
Pardon me, y'all, the great Bob Marley

Solemnly, we mourn all the rappers that's gone
Niggas that got killed in the field and all the babies born
Know they ain't fully prepared for this New World Order
So I keep it ghetto like sunflower seeds and quarter waters
To walk 'em through it, you know, talk 'em through it
Know these beats is more than music whenever I talk to it
Destined for greatness, and y'all knew this when I doubled the buy
Had a shorty in a girdle coming out of BWI (In school)
I hated algebra, but I loved to multiply

And I told my nigga B.I.G. I'd be multi before I die
And it's gon' happen, whether rapping or clapping, have it your way
'Cause if that's my dough you're trapping, I'm clapping your way
, it's for the ghetto
[Chorus: Kelly Price]
Just some ghetto boys
Living in these ghetto streets
And every day they gotta fight to stay alive (To stay alive)
It's just reality
(Oh, reality)

[Verse 3: The Notorious B.I.G.]
Damn, it feel good to see people up on it (Uh)
Flipped two keys in two weeks and didn't flaunt it (Uh-huh)
My brain is haunted with mean dreams
GSs with BBs on it, supreme schemes
To get richer than Richie quickly, niggas wanna hit me
If they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack make your brains splat
High-caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
In my circumference, mad bitches with mad lucci
Bulletproof vestses under they Coogis
Spittin' my Uzi, don't lose me, my trigger niggas represent
Driving dirty in J-30s gettin' bent (Uh-huh)
And to my hit hoes, my murder mamis
I be smokin' trees in Belize when they find me

While you still killin' niggas with punani, like Connie
And Cyrus up in Cypress
Fuck you raw, you on the floor with the virus
While I just slang coke, smoke pounds of choke (Uh-huh)
Got lawyers watching lawyers so I won't go broke, now check it
Them country niggas call me Frank White
I'm squirtin' off up in my loft, of course, I know my shit's tight
Sunrise, open my eyes, no surprise
Got my shorty flyin' in with kis taped to her thighs
With all the utensils, who hang my china thing
She half-Black, half-oriental, eighty-six, she got me rental
The situation ain't accidental

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About

Genius Annotation

“Young G’s” is a stand-out track from No Way Out with Bad Boy Records star, The Notorious B.I.G. and frequent collaborator Jay Z.

Iconic xylophone beats allow Puff, Hov and Biggie to discuss how their rich lifestyle hasn’t influenced their ghetto roots and mentality at all.

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Credits
Produced By
Performance Rights
Phonographic Copyright ℗
In association with
Assistant Engineer
Mastering Engineer
Recorded At
Daddy's House & The Hit Factory (NYC)
Release Date
July 1, 1997
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