The Gimmicks Lyrics
| Song | The Gimmicks |
| Artist | Real Live |
| Album | The Turnaround: A Long Awaited Drama |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Hansford, K Def, Mack, Wright | |
| [The Notorious BIG] (I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics) | |
| [Verse 1] | |
| I'm usin mics like bangers, victims get hit | |
| Verbal homicide, razor blades spit | |
| It's mad kids trapped up in the game, ain't nothing pretty | |
| We all on a quest to have the tightest jam in the city | |
| Or the fattest sound for the nine-pound | |
| Shoot a 100 grand, I'm rollin headcracks on the ground | |
| My mind is under siege from Chucky Black | |
| I made my white-out fat with about three fourths of a 20 sack | |
| Now I gots to blow the spot one time and in due time | |
| You'll find the illustration of true crime | |
| Too many niggaz fakin moves today | |
| Too many brothers gettin blown away | |
| But I be makin licks anyway, everyday | |
| And still hold a toast just in case of foul play | |
| You always had somethin to say | |
| Man, I know you wasn't shit from the very first day | |
| (I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics) | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| I ain't a rookie, son, I'm like a decorated soldier | |
| I earned mad stripes, slugs hit you like a boulder | |
| The K is all-pro with the MP-60 | |
| And I'ma stimulate like a monster hit a blow, so | |
| Now it's time to pay some dues | |
| You got to show some skill before you talk about a Uz or a Tec | |
| And I lost mad respect | |
| And if the wack shit don't stop | |
| I'm shuttin down shop | |
| You took a turn for the worse, you're like a curse | |
| You never come clean in your verse | |
| You got players on the street gettin down for real | |
| Gettin down for coke, gettin down with steel | |
| You ain't a thoroughbred, you ain't did no caper | |
| What's this talk about you rich when you're workin with short paper? | |
| You're like a disease | |
| And, ahh, get the fuck from out of here before I squeeze |
| zuo qu : Hansford, K Def, Mack, Wright | |
| The Notorious BIG I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics | |
| Verse 1 | |
| I' m usin mics like bangers, victims get hit | |
| Verbal homicide, razor blades spit | |
| It' s mad kids trapped up in the game, ain' t nothing pretty | |
| We all on a quest to have the tightest jam in the city | |
| Or the fattest sound for the ninepound | |
| Shoot a 100 grand, I' m rollin headcracks on the ground | |
| My mind is under siege from Chucky Black | |
| I made my whiteout fat with about three fourths of a 20 sack | |
| Now I gots to blow the spot one time and in due time | |
| You' ll find the illustration of true crime | |
| Too many niggaz fakin moves today | |
| Too many brothers gettin blown away | |
| But I be makin licks anyway, everyday | |
| And still hold a toast just in case of foul play | |
| You always had somethin to say | |
| Man, I know you wasn' t shit from the very first day | |
| I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I ain' t a rookie, son, I' m like a decorated soldier | |
| I earned mad stripes, slugs hit you like a boulder | |
| The K is allpro with the MP60 | |
| And I' ma stimulate like a monster hit a blow, so | |
| Now it' s time to pay some dues | |
| You got to show some skill before you talk about a Uz or a Tec | |
| And I lost mad respect | |
| And if the wack shit don' t stop | |
| I' m shuttin down shop | |
| You took a turn for the worse, you' re like a curse | |
| You never come clean in your verse | |
| You got players on the street gettin down for real | |
| Gettin down for coke, gettin down with steel | |
| You ain' t a thoroughbred, you ain' t did no caper | |
| What' s this talk about you rich when you' re workin with short paper? | |
| You' re like a disease | |
| And, ahh, get the fuck from out of here before I squeeze |
| zuò qǔ : Hansford, K Def, Mack, Wright | |
| The Notorious BIG I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics | |
| Verse 1 | |
| I' m usin mics like bangers, victims get hit | |
| Verbal homicide, razor blades spit | |
| It' s mad kids trapped up in the game, ain' t nothing pretty | |
| We all on a quest to have the tightest jam in the city | |
| Or the fattest sound for the ninepound | |
| Shoot a 100 grand, I' m rollin headcracks on the ground | |
| My mind is under siege from Chucky Black | |
| I made my whiteout fat with about three fourths of a 20 sack | |
| Now I gots to blow the spot one time and in due time | |
| You' ll find the illustration of true crime | |
| Too many niggaz fakin moves today | |
| Too many brothers gettin blown away | |
| But I be makin licks anyway, everyday | |
| And still hold a toast just in case of foul play | |
| You always had somethin to say | |
| Man, I know you wasn' t shit from the very first day | |
| I see the gimmicks, the wack lyrics | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I ain' t a rookie, son, I' m like a decorated soldier | |
| I earned mad stripes, slugs hit you like a boulder | |
| The K is allpro with the MP60 | |
| And I' ma stimulate like a monster hit a blow, so | |
| Now it' s time to pay some dues | |
| You got to show some skill before you talk about a Uz or a Tec | |
| And I lost mad respect | |
| And if the wack shit don' t stop | |
| I' m shuttin down shop | |
| You took a turn for the worse, you' re like a curse | |
| You never come clean in your verse | |
| You got players on the street gettin down for real | |
| Gettin down for coke, gettin down with steel | |
| You ain' t a thoroughbred, you ain' t did no caper | |
| What' s this talk about you rich when you' re workin with short paper? | |
| You' re like a disease | |
| And, ahh, get the fuck from out of here before I squeeze |
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