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The Notorious B.I.G.
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Kick in the Door (from Life After Death, 1997)
feat. The Mad Rapper
[Intro skit - 'Trevin Jones'] Welcome back We're here on Bad Boy Television, and I'm Trevin Jones And I've been conversing with the Mad Rapper 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 And quite frankly, he's very mad We're gonna try to find out why, so we'll take some questions At this point from our studio audience Yes, ma'am, please stand and state your name and where you're from
['Shay'] Hi, my name is Shay, and I'm from New Rochelle And I just don't understand; why you so mad? Like, what are you so mad about?
['The Mad Rapper'] Yo, yo, yo-yo, y'know, yo you wanna know why, yo first of all You can't be askin' me no question youknowhatI'msayin? Who the fuck is you? (Ahh, excuse me, Mr. Rapper, Mr. Rapper) YouknowhatI'msayin? You can't be askin' me no question (It's a family oriented show) I'mma tell you why I'm mad, youknowhatI'msayin? I'mma tell you why I'm mad. I'mma tell you why I'm mad These niggas is makin' five hundred thousand dollar videos, youknowsayin? They drivin' around in hot cars, youknowsayin? They got bitches, they got all that shit (Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language.) YouknowhatI'ms--? I'm still livin with my Moms, youknowhatI'msayin? That's my word. YouknowI'ms--? I'm makin' records, I ain't made no money Yet I done made this is my fourth album yo, this my fourth album I ain't made a dime yet This nigga made one album, he makin' wild records That 'Ready to Die' shit, it was aight, it was aight YouknowI'msayin, that shit was aight, it was cool But my shit is J--more John Blaze than that! I got John Blaze shit And they not rish--recognizing, they not sayin, 'I recognize' And fuck is that, who is you to be askin' me questions, youknowhatI'msayin? Who is you?
[ 'I gots to talk I gotta tell what I feel I gotta talk about my life as I see it']
[Intro - The Notorious B.I.G.] This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you, and you This goes out to you This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you
[Verse One] Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons Get in that ass, quick fast, like Ramadan It's that rap phenomenon Don Dada, fuck Poppa You got to call me Francis M.H. White Intake light tokes, tote iron Was told in shootouts, stay low and keep firin' Keep extra clips for extra shit Who's next to flip on that cat with that grip on rap The most shady, Frankie baby Ain't no telling where I may be May see me in D.C. at Howard Homecoming With my man Capone, gumming, fucking something You should know my steelo Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show To orgies with hoes I never seen before So, Jesus, get off the Notorious Penis before I squeeze and bust If the beef between us, we can settle it With the chrome and metal shit I make it hot like a kettle get You're delicate, you better get - who sent ya? You still pedal shit, I got more rides than 'Great Adventure' Biggie ('How are you gonna do it?')
[Hook - 4X] Kick in the door, waving the four-four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
[Verse Two] On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get when you're marked for death Should I start your breath or should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why Lyrically I'm worshiped, don't front, the word sick You cursed it, but rehearsed it I drop unexpectedly like bird shit You herbs get stuck quickly for royalties and show money Don't forget the publishing, I punish em, I'm done with them Son, I'm surprised you run with them I think they got cum in them cause they nothing but dicks Trying to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks Mad I smoke hydro, rock diamonds that's sick Got paid off my flow, rhyme with my own clique Take trips to Cairo, laying with your bitch I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick When I see ya I'mma
[Hook - 4X]
[Verse Three] This goes out for those that choose to use Disrespectful views on the King of N-Y Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye Now ya brailling it, snatch that light shit, I'm scaling it Conscious of ya nonsense, in eighty-eight Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson Tote steel like Bronson, 'Vigilante' You wanna get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other kings in this rap thing They siblings, nothing but my children One shot they disappearin' It's ill when MC's used to be on cruddy shit Took home, 'Ready to Die,' listened, studied shit Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue They light weight, fragile, my nine milli Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny And you still recouping, stupid
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