paroles de chanson Kick in the Door - The Notorious B.I.G.

(Biggie)
Uh, uh-huh
Uh, this goes out to you (Biggie)
This goes out to you
And you, and you, and you (Biggie)
This goes out to you
This goes out to you (Biggie)
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 Dada, fuck Poppa
You gotta 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 (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 Homecoming with my man Capone, dumbin'
Fuckin' somethin', you should know my steelo
Went from ten G's for blow to 30 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 .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more"
Kick in the door, wavin' the .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more"

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (Biggie)
Kick in the door, wavin' the .44 (uh-huh)
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more (uh, uh-huh)

On ya mark, get set when I spark, ya wet
Look how dark it get when you're marked for death (uh)
Should I start your breath, or should I let ya 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 publishin', I punish 'em (uh-huh), I'm done with them (uh-huh)
Son, I'm surprised you run with them
I think they got cum 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 paid off my flow, rhyme with my own clique
Take trips to Cairo, layin' wit' yo' bitch
I know you prayin' you was rich, fuckin' prick, when I see ya, I'ma-

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44 (uh-huh)
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (uh, uh, uh)
Kick in the door, wavin' the .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more"

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (Biggie)
Kick in the door, wavin' the .44
All you heard was, "Poppa, don't hit me no more"

This goes out for those that choose to use
Disrespectful views on the King of NY
Fuck that, why try? Throw bleach in ya eye
Now ya braillin' it, snatch that light shit, I'm scalin' it
Conscious of ya nonsense, in '88
Sold more powder than Johnson & 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
Nothin' but my children, one shot, they disappearin' (uh)
It's ill when MCs 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 lightweight, fragili, my nine milli'
Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
And you still recoupin', stupid!
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid...