I like Biggie’s stuff (the guy certainly had tremendous talent, even if some of his songs are just too glorifying of violence and misogyny for me to handle).  And I think his story is a fascinating one that could make for a great movie.  However, I was worried that it would have problems similar to the ones described in this review:

By all accounts, Biggie also shared Woolard’s talent for wheedling affection from a skeptical audience, both off- and onstage. (A scene in which he wins over a restless college crowd with the bravura boast “Party and Bullshit” is a musical high point.) The Christopher Wallace this movie shows us is not such a swell guy: He deals crack to a pregnant woman; ignores his first, out-of-wedlock daughter when his second child by another woman comes along; and runs out on his mother, Voletta (Angela Bassett), after she receives a cancer diagnosis. But even after the movie shows us what happens when Biggie’s charm runs dry with his wife, Faith Evans (Antonique Smith), we’re expected to keep forgiving him ourselves. Again, Woolard’s natural warmth as an actor makes this easy enough to do. But the screenwriters, Reggie Rock Bythewood and Biggie’s biographer Cheo Hodari Coker, can never decide whether they’re telling a dark morality tale (about a man brought low by his own choices who reforms just as his lifestyle catches up with him) or a simpler story of unalloyed triumph cut short by violence.