conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Mr. Biggs with the following description: The first YM tape Young Money Mixtape Vol. 1 was separated into two discs. This is the first track for the second disc of the tape, and is a solo track for Wayne. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro]
  Yeah, Mr Biggs
  Hold on, hold on, hold on
  Yeah, well not because of my size
  Hey, yo, hey, yo hey, ho, haha
  I might as well get me a bitch to say my name on all my songs
  [Verse]
  Nigga, I'm young as a motherfucker
  But money a motherfucker
  Young Money motherfucker
  Get it in blood puddles, shit
  I'm in the South, where we livin' in mud puddles
  Shit is a drug struggle when you niggas uppin' prices
  I hug the Glock like a turnbuckle
  Can't get stopped by the vices, no license
  Rollin' like dices on the streets
  Where the odds is high
  Where the crime is life
  And the life is time
  And the time is jail
  And in the jail you stressin'
  The judge probably hit me wit an algebraic expression
  But I get away free like 
  Ocean's 11
  And I motion the metal
  Like a pro-fiessional
  And I'm rollin' especially like a pimp supposed to
  Watch how you sit down, something's in that sofa
  If she wit me, you know that something's in that hoe bra
  She's a foreigner, so she say coca
  I get broke off, and they get brok-er
  They like "so what?"
  I'm like "so when?"
  We gon' know then
  How to turn in, turn out
  'Cause we gon' shoot back
  'Till the burners burn out
  'Till the burnin' burn down every house the block hold
  I'm hollerin' at you niggas with every shot the Glock hold
  You can't see me, there's a thousand blindfolds
  And my mindstate, is put a thousand on top of those
  I do school and do lunch at Pappadeuax's
  They want beef, I turn that to sloppy joes
  Copycats brrrrat, copy those
  I got a strong relationship wit expensive clothes
  This stuntin' shit is extensive and intense
  Like pullin' up in somethin' Americans can't invent
  I make 'em fall back, they gotta indent
  Like a paragraph, the first sentence
  Shit, I'm way smarter, man, I'm more gifted
  Straight from the womb to pro, prolific
  I'm so, I'm so so, I'm so lifted
  High in the sky, me and pops takin' pictures
  That's my vision, until my vision is vivid
  I'ma give it all I got
  We good, Jigga? You bitches!