The Notorious B.I.G. — Kick in the Door

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Текст The Notorious B.I.G. — Kick in the Door

Uh!
Uh-huh!
Uh, this goes out to (Biggie!) you…
This goes out to you!
And you! And you (Biggie!) And you!
This goes out to you!
This goes out to (Biggie!) you!
This goes out to you!
And you! And you! Uh!
Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns
As I crush so-called Willies, thugs, and rapper-dons. (uh!)
Get in that ass, quick fast, like Ramadan
It’s that rap phenomenon, Don-Dadda!
Fuck Poppa! — You gotto — call me Francis M.H.
White in tank-light totes! — Tote iron!
Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin’
Keep extra clips for extra shit. (uh-huh!)
Who’s next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap
The most shady! (Tell em!) — Frankie baby!
Ain’t no tellin’ where I may be,

May see me — in D.C. at Howard Homecomin’
With my man Capone, dumbin’,
Fuckin somethin’! — 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 befo’,
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? «)
Kick in the door; wavin’ the .four-four!
All you heard was: «Poppa don’t hit me no more! «Kick in the door; wavin’ the .four-four!
All you heard was: «Poppa don’t hit me no more! «Kick in the door; wavin’ the .four-four!
All you heard was: «Poppa don’t hit me no more! «(Biggie!)
Kick in the door; wavin’ the .four-four! (uh-huh!)
All you heard was: (uh!) «Poppa don’t hit me no more! «On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet
Look how dark it get, when ya marked with death. (uh!)
Should I start your breath should I let you die
In fear you start to cry, ask: «Why? «Lyrically, I’m worser! — 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 publishin — I punish ’em (uh!) I’m done with them (uh-huh!)
Son, I’m surprised you run with them!
I think they got come in them! — Cause they — nothin’ but dicks
Tryna blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks!
Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds, that’s sick!
Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own click!
Take trips to Cairo, layin’ with yo bitch
I know you prayin’ you was rich, fuckin’ prick! — When I see ya I’m a…
This goes out for those that choose to use
Disrespectful views on the «King Of NY».

Fuck that! — Why try? Throw bleach in your eye!
Now ya Braille in it! — Stash that light shit — or scalin’ it!
Conscience 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 chil’ren; one shot, they disappearin’! (uh!)
It’s I’ll 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. — Fragilly, my .9 milly, make the white shake!
That’s why my money never funny! And you still recoupin’! — Stupid!