BigPoppa-2007Remaster
The Notorious B.I.G.
Greatest Hits
The smoothest invitation ever extended from the back of the club.
Uh, uh, check it out (Yeah), uh
Junior M.A.F.I.A., uh (He-he)
Uh (I like this) yeah, yeah
Nine-fo' (Keep bangin')
To all the ladies in the place with style and grace
Allow me to lace these lyrical douches in your bushes
Who rock grooves and make moves with all the mamis?
The back of the club, sippin' Moët is where you'll find me
The back of the club, mackin' hoes, my crew's behind me
Mad question askin', blunt passin'
Music blastin', but I just can't quit
Because one of these honeys Biggie got to creep with
Sleep with, keep the ep a secret, why not?
Why blow up my spot 'cause we both got hot?
Now check it, I got more mack than Craig, and in the bed
Believe me, sweetie, I got enough to feed the needy
No need to be greedy, I got mad friends with Benzes
C-notes by the layers, true fuckin' players
Jump in the Rover and come over
Tell your friends jump in the GS3, I got the chronic by the tree
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggas like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
Straight up honey really I'm askin'
Most of these niggas think they be mackin', but they be actin'
Who they attractin' with that line
What's your name? What's your sign?
Soon as he buy that wine, I just creep up from behind
And ask you what your interests are, who you be with
Things that make you smile, what numbers to dial
You gon' be here for a while?
I'm gon' go call my crew, you go call your crew
We can rendezvous at the bar around 2
Plans to leave, throw the keys to Lil Cease
Pull the truck up front, and roll up the next blunt
So we can steam on the way to the telly, go fill my belly
A T-bone steak, cheese eggs and Welch's grape
Conversate for a few, 'cause in a few we gon' do
What we came to do, ain't that right, boo? (True)
Forget the telly, we just go to the crib
And watch a movie in the jacuzzi, smoke L's while you do me
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggas like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place (Why?)
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
(How ya livin' Biggie Smalls?) In mansion and Benz's
Givin' ends to my friends, and it feels stupendous
Tremendous cream, fuck a dollar and a dream
Still tote gats strapped with infrared beams
Choppin' Os, smokin' la in Optimos
Money, hoes and clothes, all a nigga knows
A foolish pleasure? Whatever
I had to find the buried treasure, so grams I had to measure
However, living better now, Coogi sweater now
Drop top BM's, I'm the man, girlfriend
Honey check it, check it
Tell your friends, to get with my friends (Your friends)
And we can be friends
Shit we can do this every weekend (That's right)
Aight? Is that aight with you?
Yeah, keep bangin'
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggaz like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
Uh, check it out
Nine-fo' shit for that ass, uh
Puff Daddy, Biggie Smalls, Junior M.A.F.I.A
Represent, baby, baby, uh
Uh, uh, check it out (Yeah), uh
Junior M.A.F.I.A., uh (He-he)
Uh (I like this) yeah, yeah
Nine-fo' (Keep bangin')
To all the ladies in the place with style and grace
Allow me to lace these lyrical douches in your bushes
Who rock grooves and make moves with all the mamis?
The back of the club, sippin' Moët is where you'll find me
The back of the club, mackin' hoes, my crew's behind me
Mad question askin', blunt passin'
Music blastin', but I just can't quit
Because one of these honeys Biggie got to creep with
Sleep with, keep the ep a secret, why not?
Why blow up my spot 'cause we both got hot?
Now check it, I got more mack than Craig, and in the bed
Believe me, sweetie, I got enough to feed the needy
No need to be greedy, I got mad friends with Benzes
C-notes by the layers, true fuckin' players
Jump in the Rover and come over
Tell your friends jump in the GS3, I got the chronic by the tree
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggas like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
Straight up honey really I'm askin'
Most of these niggas think they be mackin', but they be actin'
Who they attractin' with that line
What's your name? What's your sign?
Soon as he buy that wine, I just creep up from behind
And ask you what your interests are, who you be with
Things that make you smile, what numbers to dial
You gon' be here for a while?
I'm gon' go call my crew, you go call your crew
We can rendezvous at the bar around 2
Plans to leave, throw the keys to Lil Cease
Pull the truck up front, and roll up the next blunt
So we can steam on the way to the telly, go fill my belly
A T-bone steak, cheese eggs and Welch's grape
Conversate for a few, 'cause in a few we gon' do
What we came to do, ain't that right, boo? (True)
Forget the telly, we just go to the crib
And watch a movie in the jacuzzi, smoke L's while you do me
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggas like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place (Why?)
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
(How ya livin' Biggie Smalls?) In mansion and Benz's
Givin' ends to my friends, and it feels stupendous
Tremendous cream, fuck a dollar and a dream
Still tote gats strapped with infrared beams
Choppin' Os, smokin' la in Optimos
Money, hoes and clothes, all a nigga knows
A foolish pleasure? Whatever
I had to find the buried treasure, so grams I had to measure
However, living better now, Coogi sweater now
Drop top BM's, I'm the man, girlfriend
Honey check it, check it
Tell your friends, to get with my friends (Your friends)
And we can be friends
Shit we can do this every weekend (That's right)
Aight? Is that aight with you?
Yeah, keep bangin'
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
To the honies gettin' money playin niggaz like dummies
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
If you got a gun up in your waist
Please don't shoot up the place
'Cause I see some ladies tonight
That should be havin my baby, baby
Uh, check it out
Nine-fo' shit for that ass, uh
Puff Daddy, Biggie Smalls, Junior M.A.F.I.A
Represent, baby, baby, uh
“The smoothest invitation ever extended from the back of the club.”
In the summer of 1994, Christopher George Latore Wallace — the man the world was learning to call The Notorious B.I.G.
— was in the midst of a creative supernova.
His debut album "Ready to Die" was nearing completion at The Hit Factory in New York City, and the sessions were yielding track after track of raw autobiography: tales of suicidal ideation, crack-dealing desperation, and existential dread.
But Biggie and his producer-mentor Sean "Puffy" Combs understood that a great album needs texture, and that the streets wanted something to ride to as much as something to cry to.
Enter "Big Poppa" — a record born not from anguish but from the sheer intoxicating pleasure of finally having made it, of being the biggest man in the room and knowing exactly what to do with that gravity.
The sonic architecture of "Big Poppa" is a masterclass in seduction through restraint.
Built around a silky interpolation of The Isley Brothers' 1983 slow jam "Between the Sheets" — those languid, honey-dripped guitar licks and pillowy bass lines — the production, helmed by Chucky Thompson with Puff Daddy's executive ear guiding every decision, achieves something rare in mid-'90s hip-hop: a track that bumps at 120 BPM yet feels unhurried, warm, and enveloping.
The beat breathes.
The kick drum is soft but present, the hi-hats whisper rather than snap, and the sampled instrumentation floats in a kind of amber-lit haze.
Sitting in C major, the harmonic palette radiates openness and warmth — there are no minor-key shadows here, only candlelight.
The energy and valence sit at a perfect equilibrium, neither euphoric nor melancholic, but rather that precise emotional frequency of confident contentment: the vibe of a man who has arrived.
Lyrically, "Big Poppa" is Biggie at his most charismatic and cinematically detailed.
He doesn't just tell you he's at the club — he places you in the back, Moët in hand, crew flanking him, blunts rotating.
His approach to seduction is notably anti-performative; while other men deploy tired lines ("What's your name?
What's your sign?"), Biggie creeps up from behind and asks about interests, about what makes a woman smile, about real things.
The genius of the lyric is in its specificity — the T-bone steak, cheese eggs, and Welch's grape at the end of the night; the keys tossed to Lil Cease; the jacuzzi and the movie.
These aren't abstract boasts but lived moments, rendered with the novelistic eye that made Wallace one of the greatest storytellers rap has ever produced.
And threaded through the hedonism is a disarming vulnerability: the hook's refrain — "I love it when you call me Big Poppa" — is, at its core, a man confessing that he needs to be wanted, that affirmation is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
Released as the third single from "Ready to Die" in early 1995, "Big Poppa" detonated.
It climbed to number six on the Billboard Hot 100 and number one on the Hot Rap Singles chart, becoming Biggie's first undeniable crossover smash.
The Hype Williams-directed music video — all fish-eye lenses, champagne-soaked mansion parties, and Biggie's magnetic, improbable cool — became an MTV staple and helped define the visual language of hip-hop luxury for the rest of the decade.
Critics hailed it as the perfect marriage of East Coast lyricism and radio-ready production, a bridge between the hardcore and the mainstream that never felt like a compromise.
The track earned a Grammy nomination for Best Rap Solo Performance and cemented Biggie's status not just as a rapper but as a cultural force — proof that you could come from Fulton Street, Bedford-Stuyvesant, and soundtrack the fantasies of an entire generation.
Nearly three decades later, "Big Poppa" endures as one of hip-hop's most universally beloved records — a song that transcends era, region, and even genre loyalty.
It is the track that plays at weddings and barbecues, in dive bars and penthouse lounges, and every single person in the room knows every word.
Its influence echoes through every rapper who has attempted the player's anthem since: from Jay-Z to Drake to every artist who understood that vulnerability wrapped in confidence is the most seductive combination of all.
In the broader arc of Biggie's tragically abbreviated catalog, "Big Poppa" represents the joy — the pure, uncut pleasure of being alive and being desired — that makes his violent death in March 1997 feel all the more devastating.
This 2007 remaster, with its widened stereo field and deepened low end, lets those Isley Brothers guitars shimmer with renewed clarity, as if the record is still breathing, still inviting you to the back of the club, still waiting for you to call his name.
