THE NOTORIOUS B.I.G. – WHO SHOT YA

Lyrics

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 lyrical 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...

Paroles (Traduction)

Introduction : Puff Daddy
Alors que nous avançons
pour vous donner ce dont vous avez besoin
Bande de travailleurs de 9 à 5
Devenez vivants, bande de fils de pute -- 2X
Alors que nous avançons
pour vous donner ce dont vous avez besoin
Bande de la côte Est
Fils de pute de Bad Boy
BIG - Maintenant monte les micros
Monte ce micro, ouais ce beat claque
sur ce microphone
Monte ce truc à fond
Hein, quoi ?
Monte-le plus fort
Ouais, hein
Alors que nous avançons, pour vous
donner ce dont vous avez besoin
Bande de J.M.
Bande de J.M.
Bande de travailleurs de 9 à 5
Couplet Un :
Qui t'a tiré dessus ?
Sépare les faibles des obsolètes
Dur de se faufiler dans les rues de Brooklyn
C'est parti mec, fuck toutes ces querelles
J'entends la sueur couler sur ta joue
Ton battement de cœur sonne comme les pieds de Sasquatch
Tonnerre, secouant le béton
Termine-le, arrête, quand je déjoue le complot
Les voisins appellent les flics disant qu'ils ont entendu des coups de feu
Ils m'ont vu dans la caisse, trois dans le coin
Massacre, du scotch électrique autour de ta fille
Ancienne ou nouvelle école, il faut apprendre
Je brûle bébé brûle comme le Disco Inferno
Brûle lentement comme des joints avec de la yo-yo
Pèle plus de peaux qu'une pomme de terre de l'Idaho
Les mecs savent, le viol lyrique est en train de se produire
Fouiller avec B.I.G. ce n'est pas sûr
Je te fais chafouiner, éruptions cutanées sur les masses
Bosse et contusions, joints et Landcruisers
Big Poppa écrase les idiots, les frappe
Les mecs sont fous parce que je sais que le Cash Règne
Tout autour de moi,

Thématique Rivalité

Style Rap

Keywords Côte Est, Côte ouest

Entités normées Christopher Wallace, Tupac Shakur