"Who Shot Ya" Notorious B.I.G.
[Intro: Puff Daddy] As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers [2X] As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers BIG - Now turn the mics up Turn that mic up, yea that beat is knockin to that microphone Turn that shit the fuck up Uh, what? Turn it up louder Yea, uh As we proceed, to give you what you need J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers [Verse One:] Who shot ya? Seperate the weak from the ob-solete Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek Your heartbeat soun like Sasquatch feet Thundering, shaking the concrete Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots Saw me in the drop, three in the corner Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter Old school new school need to learn though I burn baby burn like Disco Inferno Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo Peel more skins than Idaho potato Niggaz know, the lyrics molestin is takin place Fuckin with B.I.G. it ain't safe I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools Niggaz mad because I know that Cash Rules Everything Around Me, two glock nines Any motherfucker whispering about mines And I'm, Crooklyn's finest You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this [Interlude:] As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Smoke blunts motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Ready to die motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers [Verse Two:] I seen the light excite all the freaks Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps Niggaz wanna creep, got ta watch my back Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack? I switches all that, cock-sucker G's up One false move, get swiss cheesed up Clip to Tec, respect I demand it Slip and break the, 11th Commandment Thou shalt not fuck with raw C-Poppa Feel a thosand deaths when I drop ya I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don Pussy when I want Rolex on the arm You'll die slow but calm Recognize my face, so there won't be no mistake So you know where to tell Jake, lame nigga Brave nigga, turned front page nigga Puff Daddy flips daily I smoke the blunts he sips on the Bailey's on the rocks, tote glocks at christenings And my cock, in the fire position and... (Get live motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers) C'mere, c'mere (it ain't gotta be like that Big) open your fucking mouth, open your... didn't I tell you don't fuck with me? [muffled] c'mon man Huh? Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (as we proceed) (c'mon man) Look at you now (to give you what you need) Huh? (c'mon man) (9 to 5 motherfuckers) Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh? (get live motherfuckers) Bitch-ass nigga, what? (get live motherfuckers) [muffled sounds, six gun shots] (as we proceed...) Who shot ya? [Outro: Puff Daddy] ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get live motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) Get high motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers Hah!! As we proceed... (Who shot ya?) ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers East coast motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) West coast motherfuckers... West coast motherfuckers... hah! As we proceed, to give you what you need As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get money motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers As we proceeeeeeed To give you what you need... 9 to 5... |
"Ether" Nas
[gunshots] [2Pac talking] ("Fuck Jay-Z") What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talking 'bout me dog You, what? ("Fuck Jay-Z") You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga ("Fuck Jay-Z") [Chorus] (I) Fuck with your soul like ether (Will) Teach you the king you know you (Not) "God's son" across the belly (Lose) I prove you lost already Brace yourself for the main event Y'all impatiently waiting It's like an AIDS test, what's the results? Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy I embrace y'all with napalm Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone How could Nas be garbage? Semi-autos at your cartilage Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne I got this, locked since '9-1 I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music Check it [Chorus] [talking] Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fucking ring [Chorus] I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh) Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face Y'all some "well wishers," friendly acting, envy hiding snakes With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take? When these streets keep calling, heard it when I was sleep That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef Started cocking up my weapon, slowly loading up this ammo To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid When KRS already made an album called Blueprint First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big Dick sucking lips, why not you let the late, great veteran live [talking] (I...will...not...lose) "God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already The king is back, where my crown at? (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas [Chorus] Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother You traded your soul for riches My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous And now I smile like a proud dad, watching his only son that made it You seem to be only concerned with dissing women Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly? Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly In '88 you was getting chased through your building Calling my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers All I did was gave you a style for you to run with Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the god Wearing Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic? Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy? Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy Rockefeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after? Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas? Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss What you think, you getting girls now 'cause of your looks? Ne-gro please You no mustache having, with whiskers like a rat Compared to Beans you wack And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hanging with Caine, to Herb, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit You a dick-riding faggot, you love the attention Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick Shawn Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick So little shorty's getting gunned up and clapped quick How much of Biggie's rhymes is gonna come out your fat lips? Wanted to be on every last one of my classics You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss |
"Hit 'Em Up" 2Pac
[Tupac] I ain't got no motherfucking friends That's why I fucked your bitch You fat motherfucker (Take Money) West Side Bad Boy Killers (Take Money) You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to (Take Money) (ha ha, that's alright) First off, fuck your bitch And the clique you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a player But I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for your jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How I'll leave you Cut your young ass up See you in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, see [Chorus:] Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh Who shot me, But your punks didn't finish Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up Check this out You motherfuckers know what time it is I don't even know why I'm on this track You all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on you bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches (ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up) Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pass the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of you Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving you Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank 'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of you nigga With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bauer Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up [Chorus] Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You in the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Sherm high niggas think they learned to fly But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But it's funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now it's all about Versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Motherfucker I'll Hit 'Em Up I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenario Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your knees Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro Little Kim is you Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia clique moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked You's a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker Soften than Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.D. I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh) Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up Now you tell me who won I see them, they run (ha ha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia clique Dressing up trying to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair But somebody got to do it Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh) You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass motherfuckers Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something You're fucking with me, nigga? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama fuck you and your mother fucking mama. We're gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fucking opinion Well this is how we gonna' do this: fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fucking crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, fuck you too. (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker. My four four (.44 magnum) make sure all your kids don't grow. You motherfuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. You think you the mob, nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob Ain't nothing but killers And the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us. Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckin' belts You know how it is and we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it We the realist fuck 'em. We Bad Boy killers. |
"Second Round K.O." Canibus
[in the first section Tyson speaks over the "Rip Rock" instrumental] [Mike Tyson] Yo Canibus man, whassup man? I caught you on that cut with Wyclef man - you were boomin But I caught these foul slouch-ass niggaz, youknowmean? Talkin foul bout you the other night on the corner of the boulevard man - I wasn't with that but I ain't know you well enough to defend you though right? But you seem like you got true game But.. peep game man, they've been playin me all my life man You know I won the title a couple of times, did right, youknowmean? But they can't hurt us man, we gon' do it Get up in this ring man put on these gloves Let me show how to handle yourself man You don't got nobody out there with you I gots to show you man, get up in there move that head man Come on to me man, but when you come man you gotta come for blood man Come up to me man, come on bust that nigga whole man Niggaz talkin that shit about you.. Hey Mike Tyson here speakin with the Canibus man over here Yo Canibus your main objective out here is to do nuttin but eat eat eat eat MC's, for lunch, breakfast Hey man they been playin me all my life man You know I won the title a couple of times did right No but they can't hurt us man We gonna do it, get up in this ring man, put on these gloves Let me show you how to handle this yourself man [Canibus] So I'ma let the world know the truth, you don't want me to shine You studied my rhyme, then you laid your vocals after mine That's a bitch move, somethin that a homo rapper would do So when you say that you +Platinum+, you only droppin +Clue's+ I studied your background, read the book that you wrote Researched your footnotes, bout how you used to sniff coke Frontin like a drug-free role model, you disgust me I know bitches that seen you smoke weed recently You walk around showin off your body cause it sells Plus to avoid the fact that you ain't got skills Mad at me cause I kick that shit real niggaz feel While 99% of your fans wear high heels From Ice-T to Kool Moe Dee to Jay-Z Now you wanna fuck with me? You must be crazy! You drippin with wack juice, and you can't get it off You betta be prepard to finish what you start, nigga [Referee] Hey hey hey hey, you just hold it right there (Yo, get off me man) We got an illegal low blow on the fighter in the blue trunks (Yo, yo get the fuck off me man) If I see one more of those, you're outta here brotha (Yo get out my way man, yo he started this shit) You understand? (Fuck you!) You'll be disqualified (I'll bite that nigga again!) Stop bein a bitch (Get the fuck off me man!) We came to see a fight [Mike Tyson] Yo Canibus man you gotta hit harder than that man You don't want no bitch ass niggaz hangin out wit me man We're warriors man, when we go into battle we come out, or don't come out at all [Canibus] Yo You better give me the respect that I deserve or I'ma take it by force Blast you with a 45 colt, make you summersault Shock you with a couple hundred thousand volt thunderbolts Before you wanted a war, now you wanna talk It's about who strikes the hardest, not who strikes first That's why I laugh when I hear that wack ass verse That shit was the worse [pause] rhyme I ever heard in my life cause the greatest rapper of all time died on March 9th God bless his soul rest in peace kid It's because of him now at least I know +What Beef+ is It's not what I would call this (nah) see this is somethin different A faggot nigga tryin ta make a livin offa dissin Somebody that he gotta know is betta than him but he feelin himself, cause he got more cheddar than him Well lemme tell you somethin, you might got mo' cash then me But you ain't got the skills to eat a nigga's ass like me And if you really want to show off, we can get it on Live in front of the cameras on your own sitcom I'll let you kick a verse, fuck it, I'll let you kick em all I'll even wait for the studio audience to applaud [cheers] Now watch me rip the tat from your arm Kick you in the groin, stick you for your Vanguard award In front of your mom your 1st, 2nd and 3rd born Make your wife get on the horn call Minister Farrakhan So he could persuade me to squash it, I saw naw he started it He forgot what a hardcore artist is A hardcore artist is a dangerous man, such as myself trained to run 20 miles in soft sand On or off land, programmed to kick hundreds of bars off hand from a lost and forgotten land, you done did it man You done spitted some wack shittit And probably thought that because it's been a minute I'll forget it Fuck that, cause like Common and Cube I see +The Bitch In Yoo+ and I'ma make the world see it too, motherfucker [Referee] Ladies and gentelman, we have a new lyrical weight champion By second round knock out, 3 minutes and 40 seconds Can-i-bus [Mike Tyson] Yo Canibus man, you movin like Mike Tyson Jr. man You in and out and you're agile with you flow man But dig right, you got you gotta eat man, that's your name Canibus Your whole agenda is to eat these niggaz man They have no business to be in the same stage with you holdin the mic with you But dig right... But dig right... But dig right... But dig right... Hey Mike Tyson here speakin with the Canibus man over here Yo Canibus your main objective out here is to do nuttin but eat eat eat eat MC's for lunch, breakfast, dinner That's your agenda baby Your your agenda to to consume them Their whole existance, they can't exist in your presence The Canibus is here to rule forever Mike Tyson, on the death |