Listen to Hope You N****s Sleep (feat. Hot Boys & Big Tmer) [2005 Remaster] by The Notorious B.I.G.

Hope You N****s Sleep (feat. Hot Boys & Big Tmer) [2005 Remaster]

The Notorious B.I.G.

Hip-Hop/Rap

11,869

Apple Music Note

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Hope You N****s Sleep (feat. Hot Boys & Big Tmer) (2005 Remaster)

Watch Hope You N****s Sleep (feat. Hot Boys & Big Tmer) (2005 Remaster) on YouTube

Featured In

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Big Tmer

Vocals

Hot Boys

Vocals

The Notorious B.I.G.

The Notorious B.I.G.

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Bryan Christopher Williams

Bryan Christopher Williams

Songwriter

Byron Thomas

Songwriter

Christopher Wallace

Christopher Wallace

Songwriter

Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.

Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.

Songwriter

Osten Harvey

Songwriter

Christopher Dorsey

Christopher Dorsey

Songwriter

Tab Virgil

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Manny Fresh

Producer

Easy Mo Bee

Original Producer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Check the pain I inflict, like a convict, the Fulton digger

Jump in the Acura Vigor, after I stick ya

Rip ya like a razor, straight up Henny with no chaser

Watch me erase ya, misplace ya

Put you in the back with the derelicts

Yeah, I pop plenty shit

Chump, I'm making hits

No time for the crack rock and shit

Took it to another level

Now I'm getting crazy papes, getting paid from the devils

[Verse 2]

Another amateur trying to damage the pedigree

Of the B-I-G-G-I-E, you know it's me

Hoes, I thought you know I'm smooth as a baby's ass

Smooth as Teeddy Pendegrass, smoke the grass, get in your ass

The Brooklyn-born Teflon Don, wrecking shop

Getting props, proving nobody drops

Words as potent as the blunt smoking Bed-Stuy bandit

And **** just can't understand it

I bust a cap for the brothers in Nap Nap, Comstock, and Clinton

You know my shit is hitting

Yeah, ya'll, a fly ****, Biggie Smalls

Kicking flavor, make a **** wanna dig up in their drawers

For the burner, catch a body

I got styles like karate

Jujitsu, when I hit you then I split you

Like a cantaloupe

Hope you got a rope to hang yourself

I rob for self; from Brooklyn, where else?

Fat like a Lexus coupe, I ripped your troop

Not even Lois Lane could get the scoop

What you think, I'm stupid?

My crew is mad deep

I hope you **** sleep

[Verse 3]

I throw a bomb through your window

Burn you up and your hoe

I catch your mama going to therapy and cut her throat

Your little sister walking home from school

I abduct her, then I fuck her

I hit your park close up with the Louisville Slugger

B.G.-zy is the hustler, ignorant motherfucker

I was taught how to bust heads by the best head-busters

Cluckers, you know I got 'em, two for one, my ****

I'm on V.L. if you want me, get some my ****, come on

[Verse 4]

Thugging is my thing; if I'm beefing, I'm banging

Slanging, it's in my nature, gotta be about my paper

Haters, I don't like 'em; bitches, I don't trust 'em

****, I can't stand 'em, I creep down and pluck 'em

Strap stay in my hand, I gotta protect mine

**** trying to pull it off, "pop," goes the nine

That's how it got to be in these uptown streets

And a **** like me, I play the game for keeps

[Verse 5]

I remember when **** slang heroin up in balloons

I paid attention to everything, from killings to cartoons

Got a picture of Malcolm X on the wall in my room, bitch

Want some old ****? Fuck with me, I'mma do 'em, shit

**** give me dope, I accept it, but don't respect him

Put my foot in their rectum right after I dome checked 'em

I be popping D, smoking weed, and full of that Hennesey

Fresh off the streets on my way to the penitentiary

Everybody whisper in ears when they gonna mention me

I been out doing it for years, since elementary

Real good relationship with guns and drugs

Because my whole neighborhood consists of crook and thugs

Everything is my own shit cause I don't fuck with scrubs

I don't need you harassing me when I'm up in the club

Trying to hustle a ****, asking me for a dub

Quarter, ki's, and halfs is what I sling, cause that's what I love

[Verse 6]

I know you bitches know that I ain't to be played with

Dont have no picks and chooses who get they head split

They die quick, fucking with Turk, wodie get whacked

Spend a bin with Kevin and Randy leave ya flat on you back

And trust that, ain't bout to let no **** steal me

Fuck that, I bust back with a .223

Big and full of that raw with no cut and be ready to creep

Innocent people move cause somebody fixing to get split

[Verse 7]

Na, Na, it's iceberg shorty, Lordy have mercy

Come from under my shirts and flip'em and reverse'em

I'm coming so alert them

(Ur, Ur) fore I hurt them, desert eagle bursting

You haven't seen the worst and

I'm right near you and my gun blast quick, dog

Could kill you so run, dash, get gone

Wodies movin' slow around this time they got bricks dog

I ain't got bricks dog, **** break it off, what

[Verse 8]

Un huh, B.I.G. with the Cash Money Millionaires, forever

Juvenile, Lil' Wayne, Baby, Turk, B.G., Manny Fresh

Slim, CEO, and me P. Diddy, B.I.G, Born Again

And we won't stop, get money ****

Written by: Bryan Christopher Williams, Byron Thomas, Christopher Dorsey, Christopher Wallace, Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr., Osten Harvey, Tab Virgil

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