Jeans & Sneakers
It's cold outside (yeah)
Uh, uh, it's cold outside bad boy, bad boy
Uh, yeah it's cold outside
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
Biggie Smalls, who you represent?
The Brooklyn clique
Where the boots is tied tight
And the jackets is thick (Word up)
Represent them thugs not them shearling rugs
Leathers that fasten sean Combs be lasting
1x to 5x, so no need for lost weight
Affordable, way more cheaper than
The North Face flavors in the bubble-goose
So let your trouble loose
So no-one be seeing them
Thugs that's demeaning
The flavors in the city, it's a pity
Them other damn jackets don't fit me
They just plain itty bitty
Why can't a big guy stay fly?
Listen up, Polo Grounds down to Bed-Stuy
Stay fly in that Brooklyn Mint
And here's the main reason
Sitting in that jacket
Man I know you be freezing
Flavors in the vest bulletproof on the chest
Keep the burner on the waist
And still dress to impress
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
(Uh, baby baby)
Y'all should know this rap thing
I got it down to a size
Big goose underneath it
That's the metal appliance
And if we don't bust a cap
On you so called gangsters
Don't front, you a little bit scared now
Ain't ya?
Now this is '05, it's a brand new thing
'Bout time the rap game crowned
A brand new king
I been sitting here squadding
On this Tidal belt
When I drive it, watch how my rivals felt
It's the second coming of Black
So run and get your raps
And do a couple of dips, and run a few laps
I stay in first place with
The style of a Lear
If you try to battle the kid
You really gon' need a
Whole crew, not 2 man, 3 or 4
You gon' lead the whole posse, a masimore
Even then B, ain't no chance for ya
You fucking round with the rap gargantuans
Bad Boy, man easy pimp
When I'm dishing out the pain nobody exempt
You was good 'til your scam uncovered
Who the man in fatigues with the blicky?
That's the god, belove it
And he cold like a bitch's heart
Yeah he cold and ridges hard
You don't want beef? Shit, don't start, man
It's B rob, I'm taking it back
D got Kim with the product, we cookin' crack
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
Pop off 'till I'm hard and grey
I'mma even see Al Green get
Shot down like Marvin Gaye
No disrespect, pardon me
Lotta dudes got locked down but
Few had heart to stay
Puff couldn't take Marph's demay
Sit your five dollar ass
Before I make change, stay in your lane
'Cause only champs sip on pain
You the type to like Piña Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
Biggie Smalls, who you represent?
The Brooklyn clique
Where the boots is tied tight
And the jackets is thick (Word up)
Represent them thugs not them shearling rugs
Leathers that fasten sean Combs be lasting
1x to 5x, so no need for lost weight
Affordable, way more cheaper than
The North Face flavors in the bubble-goose
So let your trouble loose
So no-one be seeing them
Thugs that's demeaning
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?
What's going on? What ya throwin on?