One More Chance (Remix) lyrics

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Verse One:

First things first, I'm Poppa, freaks all the honies
dummies, playboy bunnies, those wantin' money
those the ones I like cause they don't get nathin'
but penetration, unless it smell like sanitation
Garbage(pronounced garbaage), I turn like doorknobs
heart throb, never, black and ugly as ever
however, I stay Gucci down to the socks
rings and watch filled with rocks
and my jam knock in the Mitsubishi
girls peep peep when they see me
navajos creep me in they tee pee
as I lay down laws like Alan Coppet
Stop it - if you think your gonna make a profit
don't see my ones, don't see my guns - get it
now tell ya friends Poppa hit it then split it
in two as I flow with the Junior M.A.F.I.A.
I don't know what the hell's stoppin ya
I'm clockin ya, Versace shade watchin ya
once ya grin, I'm in game, begin
first I talk about how I dresses this
In diamond necklasses - stretch Lexuses
The sex is just immaculate from the back I get
deeper and deeper, help ya reach the
climax that your man can't make
call him, tell him you'll be home real late
now sing the break

Chorus:

One more chance
Biggie give me one more chance

Verse Two:

Sick of that song on how it's so long
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thought he worked his until I handled my biz
there I is; Major Payne like Damon Wayans
Low Down Dirty Demon like his brother Keenan
schemin, don't leave ya girl round me
true player for real, ask Puff Daddy (yeah)
you ringin bells with bags from Chanel
Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel
Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell
She beeped me, meet me at twelve
Where you at? flippin jobs, payin' car notes?
While I'm swimmin in ya women like the breast stroke
Right stroke, left stroke was the best stroke
Death stroke - tongue all down her throat
Nuttin left to do but send her home to you
I'm through - can ya sing the song for me, boo?

Chorus

Verse Three:

So, what's it gonna be? Him or me?
we can cruise the world with pearls, gator boots for girls
the envy of all women, crush linen
Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in em
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
sexin me while ya man masturbates
Isn't this great? Your flight leaves at eight
Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewind
lyrically I'm supposed to represent
I'm not only the client, I'm the player president

Chorus till end

Writer(s): Carl Thompson, Sean Combs, Christopher Wallace
Copyright: Big Poppa Music, Justin Combs Publishing Company Inc., Emi April Music Inc., Sony/Atv Songs Llc, Ninth Street Tunnel Music Inc.
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