Tag Archive: Notorious BIG



State of My Union Sunday night.  I’m being told some of you look forward to the annual #MalikWeek posts.  So I should warn you ahead of time, I have a week of signature songs lined up for this space, but beyond that I decided awhile ago I was going more subtle this year.  I’m crossing a number of important milestones off my list next week, but a lot of them aren’t necessarily social media friendly. Not that I’m doing this specifically, but ‘I opened a new IRA today!’ doesn’t scream the need for an Instagram post, if you catch my drift.

Anyway, speaking from the heart Sunday night on where I’m at mentally, and it’s still the weekend.  Perfect segway.

Have a good weekend!





‘Breast milk….you made my day-ay!!!!’


But yeah, it’s the weekend.  Have a good one kids!




The weekend. Need I say more?




The countdown to Ramadan has begun.

I’ll go into it in more detail before my annual interwebs exile, but in short: everything is, or is very very swiftly where it’s supposed to be.  Including yours truly.

So I’m in the mood to give you 20 or so ‘fun’ songs before I leave you, but, you know how I am now.  Always in the moment. We’ll see how it goes.

But today I feel good, so…





My afternoon was dominated by Biggie (RIP), but I’ll give the final word tonight to the producer/artist we lost today, Sir George Martin.

The arrangement of the song he did especially for the Vegas show (which happens to be my favorite version and favorite Vegas show.)

The Fifth Beatle ladies and gentlemen.


Rhyme & Reason (1997) Directed by Peter Spirer Shown: Da Brat

I’m feeling like we need to give hip hop some love this week, don’t you?




In terms of the overall package, I will always be preferential to Pac.   BUT…

If we’re talking about the best lyricist, with the nicest metaphors; in the debate with Rakim, Hov, Nas and whoever else you want to throw in there…

[Intro: The Notorious B.I.G. (Diddy) – Bridge in the background]
What? (That’s right! Bad Boy!)
What? Uhh!
Uhh, Uhh! Lyrically I’m, uhh!
Uhh, check it out!
Uhh, lyrically I’m…
Uhh… uhh, uhh!
Junior M.A.F.I.A.! (Remix)
Uhh, Junior M.A.F.I.A.!

[Bridge: Faith Evans]
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Yeeeeeeeeah, yeeeeeeeeeah!
So goooooood, so goooooood!
I loooove you sooooooo much!
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance…
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance…
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance…
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance…

[The Notorious B.I.G.:]
First things first, I poppa! – Freaks all the honies! (uh-huh!)
Dummies! (uh!) – Playboy bunnies, those wantin’ money.
Those the ones I like cause they don’t get Nathan
But penetration, unless it smells like sanitation.
Garbage, I turn like doorknobs,
Heart throb? Never! – Black and ugly as ever!
However – I stay Coogi down to the socks
Rings and watch filled with rocks! (uh!)
And my jam knock in your Mitsubishi
Girls pee pee when they see me (uh-huh!) navajos creep me in they tee pee! (uh!)
As I lay down laws like Alan Coppet
Stop it! (uh!) – If you think they gonna make a prophet!
Don’t see my ones, don’t see my guns! – Get it?
Now tell ya friends Poppa hit it (uh!) then split it!
In two as I flow with the Junior M.A.F.I.A. (uh!)
I don’t know what the hell’s stoppin’ ya!
I’m clockin ya, Versace shades watchin’ ya! (uh-huh!)
Once ya grin, I’m in, game begin! (uh!)
First I talk about how I dresses this,
In diamond necklasses, stretch Lexuses! (whooo!)
The sex is just immaculate from the back I get
Deeper and deeper! – Help ya reach the (uh-huh!)
Climax that your man can’t make
Call him, tell him you’ll be home real late, and sing the break! (uh!)

[Chorus 1: Faith Evans (The Notorious B.I.G.) & (“Puff Daddy”)]
Baabyyyyyy, heeeeere I am (I got that good love girl, you didn’t know?)
Aaaaall, I neeeeed is ooooone more chaaaaaance! One more chance…
IIIII can heeelp (uh!) you fiiiiiind, yourseeeeelf! (I got that good love girl, you didn’t know?)
Cause you, don’t neeeeeed (uh!) noboooo-dy eeeeelse! – One more chaaaance… (“Remix! “)

[The Notorious B.I.G. (“Puff Daddy”):]
She’s sick of that song on how it’s so long
Thought he worked his until I handled my biz,
There I is! (uh!) – Major Payne like Damon Wayans (uh-huh!)
Low Down Dirty even like his brother Keenan.
Schemin’! (uh!) – Don’t leave ya girl round me
True player for real, ask Puff Dad-dy! (“yeeeah! “)
You ringin’ bells with bags from Chanel
Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel. (uh!)
Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell (uh-huh!)
She beeped me, meet me at twelve! (uh!)
Where you at? Flippin’ jobs, payin car notes? (“yeeeah! “)
While I’m swimmin’ in ya women like the breast stroke! (“uh-huh! “)
Right stroke, left stroke was the best stroke
Death stroke – tongue all down her throat! (uh-huh!)
Nuttin left to do but send her home to you,
I’m through! – Can ya sing the song for me, boo?

[Chorus 2: Faith Evans (The Notorious B.I.G.)]
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance!
(I got that good love girl, you didn’t know?)
One more chaaaaaaance! – Biggie give me one more chaaaance!
(I got that good love girl, you didn’t know?)

[The Notorious B.I.G. (“Puff Daddy”):]
So, what’s it gonna be? – Him or me? (uh!)
We can cruise the world with pearls, gator boots for girls. (uh-huh!)
The envy of all women – crushed linen!
Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in ’em. (whoooo!)
The finest women I love with a passion
Ya man’s a wimp, I give that ass a good thrashin’!
High fashion – flyin’ into all states (uh!)
Sexin me while ya man [masturbates]! (“uhh, uhh! “)
Isn’t this great? Your flight leaves at eight
Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds. (uh!)
Lyrically I’m supposed to represent (what?)
I’m not only the client, I’m the player president! (uh!)



[Chuck D]
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

It’s the ten crack commandments, what?
Nigga can’t tell me nothing about this coke
Can’t tell me nothing about this crack, this weed, my hustlin’ niggas

Niggas on the corner I ain’t forget you niggas, my triple beam niggas

[Verse 1]
I’ve been in this game for years, it made me a animal
There’s rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
Your game on track,
 not your wig pushed back
Rule Nombre Uno: never let no one know
How much dough you hold cause you know
The cheddar breed jealousy ‘specially
If that man fucked up, get yo’ ass stuck up

Number 2: never let ’em know your next move
Don’t you know Bad Boys move in silence and violence?
Take it from your highness
I done squeezed mad clips at these cats for they bricks and chips
Number 3: never trust nobody
Your moms’ll set that ass up, properly gassed up
Hoodied and masked up, shit, for that fast buck
She be laying in the bushes to light that ass up

Number 4: I know you heard this before
“Never get high on your own supply”

Number 5: never sell no crack where you rest at
I don’t care if they want a ounce, tell ’em “bounce!”

Number 6: that goddamn credit? Dead it
You think a crackhead paying you back, shit forget it!

7: this rule is so underrated
Keep your family and business completely separated

Money and blood don’t mix like 2 dicks and no bitch
Find yourself in serious shit

Number 8: never keep no weight on you!
Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jums too

Number 9 shoulda been Number 1 to me:
If you ain’t gettin’ bagged stay the fuck from police
If niggas think you snitchin’ they ain’t trying to listen
They be sittin’ in your kitchen, waiting to start hittin’

Number 10: a strong word called “consignment”
Strictly for live men, not for freshmen
If you ain’t got the clientele, say “hell no!”

Cause they gon’ want they money rain sleet hail snow
Follow these rules you’ll have mad bread to break up
If not, 24 years on the wake up
Slug hit your temple, watch your frame shake up
Caretaker did your makeup, when you passed
Your girl fucked my man Jake up, heard in three weeks
She sniffed a whole half of cake up
Heard she suck a good dick, and can hook a steak up
Gotta go gotta go, more pies to bake up, word up




Without question, one of the great videos (from concept to execution) in hip hop history:



In retrospect, one of the best things that happened to me in college was getting ‘owning a nightclub’ off my bucket list before I even heard of the term.  I didn’t own it, per se, but the year I was president of the Frat, we started ‘co-hosting’ Thursday night ‘parties’ at this spot called L.A’s. (How ironic right?)  Same as our regular Saturday night parties except as opposed to the on campus joints, at L.A.’s you could legally buy all the liquor you wanted.  And mannnnnnn, that place became the spot!  Our K-State brethren heard about it and started coming down, then fools from K.C. and Topeka started coming, and I do mean ‘fools’ and that was that.  (I was long gone from the scene by that point but all the stories I hear about that last night still crack me up.  I plead the Fif.)

Anyway, I was normally trying to be Mr. Cool in the spot since it was my party (and it would have been my ass if the shit that eventually went down would have gone down on my watch), but the one song I could never resist trying to get my grind on for was this one.  I’m pretty sure for those of us outside of New York, this was our introduction to Biggie as well.  Enjoy: