Title: “Big Swingin’ Poppa” (Smooth talk, silk socks, and a pocket full of trouble.) ⸻ [Intro – horns blast + finger snaps + female backup singers] Ba-da-ba… da-da-da-dat! (BG vocals): Big swingin’ poppa… he’s got that cool… Biggie (spoken, buttery): I love it when you call me Big Poppa… Even better when you swing to the rhythm proper. ⸻ [Verse 1 – Big Band-style sung vocals] He strolls in smooth, with a grin so wide, Velvet on his lapel and the world on his side. Gold on his wrist, game in his tone, Every dame in the room wants to take him home. They say he talks like a poet, walks like jazz, Tips his hat to the haters as he steps on the gas. He don’t chase—he attracts the scene, Like Sinatra with a Brooklyn lean. ⸻ [Biggie – classic flow over swing groove] Uh—I’m sippin’ Moët, laid back in my zone, Silk shirt poppin’ while I check my phone. She said I got that 50s vibe with the 90s game, I said I mix Louis Jordan with a platinum chain. Never need to chase—when the suit this clean, I get love from the flappers and the limousine. I’m Big Poppa, baby—swing king of the beat, Crooning in the pocket with that Brooklyn heat. ⸻ [Chorus – vocal harmonies + horn hits] Ohhh, big swingin’ poppa, he got that glide, With the low-brim hat and that B.I. stride. He’s got beats and brass in perfect blend, Where the old school ends, that’s where he begins! So raise your glass, snap those shoes, This cat’s got rhythm, charm, and blues. Big swingin’ poppa, smooth and loud— He’s the baddest groove in any crowd! ⸻ [Verse 2 – Biggie freestyle + call-and-response vocals] Poppa don’t dance, but he make the room bop, Every snap, every clap—yo, it don’t stop. Got dames on the line like rotary phone, One wink, one verse, and they callin’ him home. (Backup singers): Hey big swingin’! What’s your name? Biggie: B-I to the double G, baby—flame in the frame. And I keep it cool in my tailored threads, While I stack these bars like they gingerbread. ⸻ [Bridge – sax solo with Biggie ad-libs] Throw your hands in the air… And wave ‘em like your cufflinks got flair… ⸻ [Final Chorus – full band swing, backup vocals beltin’] Ohhh, big swingin’ poppa, he got that gold, With a Cadillac soul and a heart ice cold. From Bed-Stuy jazz halls to Vegas nights, He flips the script, turns wrong to right. Snap your fingers, spin that crown, He’s the king of cool in a three-piece town. Big swingin’ poppa—say it proud! When Big met brass, he shut it down. ⸻ [Outro – horn stabs, vocal ad libs] Biggie (smooth): Juicy in a jazz suit, baby… Brooklyn swing never looked this clean.
