Players Anthem

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Junior M.A.F.I.A.

Junior M.A.F.I.A. was an American hip hop group from Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York City, New York. The acronym M.A.F.I.A. stands for Masters At Finding Intelligent Attitudes. They were formed and mentored by New York rapper, The Notorious B.I.G., in the early 1990s and released their debut album, Conspiracy in 1995. The success of the group's singles, "Player's Anthem" (US #13) and "Get Money" (US #17) helped launch the career of Lil' Kim as a solo artist. The group became defunct in 1997 following the death of The Notorious B.I.G. In 2005 and 2006, three of the original members released the album Riot Musik and two DVDs under the Junior M.A.F.I.A. name. more »

Year:

2004

5:24

112 Views

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[Notorious B.I.G.]
Niggaz... bitches...
Uhh

[Chorus]
(Niggaz) Grab your dick if you love hip-hop
(Bitches) Rub your titties if you love Big Poppa
Gotcha, open off the words I say because
"This type of shit it happens everyday" --> Slick Rick

Check it out, uhh
Now who smoke more blunts than a little bit?
What are you a idiot?
Listen to the lyrics I spit like M1's

Got mad guns up in the cabin
Cause Cease ain't the one for the dibbin and dabbin shit
I make it happen, you got your ass caught
All you saw was fire, from the Honda Passport

or the M.P., what if you see, then I miss ya
I blow up spots like little sisters
G'wan grit ya teeth, g'wan bite ya nails to the cuticles
Like Murray, my killings, be the most beautiful

Junior M.A.F.I.A. click, thick like Luke dancers
Niggaz grab your gats, bitches take a glance at
the little one, pullin over in the Land Rover
Playin Big Willie style with a chaffeur, yaknahmean?

Stack the green, read all between the lines
A nigga act up, makes the bastard hard to find

[Chorus: x 2]

(How ya livin Biggie Smalls?) I'm surrounded by criminals
Heavy rollers even the sheisty individuals
Smokin skunk and mad Phillies
Beatin down Billy Badasses, cracks in stacks and masses

If robbery's a class, bet I pass it
Shit get drastic, I'm buryin ya bastards
Big Poppa never softenin
Take you to the church, rob the preacher for the offerin

Leave the fucker coughin up blood, and his pockets like rabbit ears
Covered the wife, kleenex for the kid's tears
Versace wear, Moschino on my bitches
She whippin my ride, countin my one'

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