Kick In The Door

Welcome back
We're here on Bad Boy television, and I'm Trevin Jones
And I've been conversing with the Mad Rapper
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

Hi, my name is Shay, and I'm from New Rochelle
And, I just don't understand, why you so mad, (yo, yo)
Like what are you so mad about? (yo, yo, y, y, yo)

You wanna know why, yo first of all, yo first of all you can't
Be askin' me no question know what I'm sayin' who the fuck is you?
(Ah, excuse me, Mr, Rapper, Mr, Rapper) you know what I'm sayin'?
You can't be askin' me no question (It's a family oriented show,)
I'ma tell you why I'm mad, you know what I'm sayin'? I'ma tell you why
I'm mad, I'ma tell you why I'm mad, These niggaz is makin' five
Hundred thousand dollar videos, yunu sayin'? They drivi'n around in
Hot cars, yunu sayin'? They got bitches, they got all that shit
(Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language)
You know what I'm sayin'? I'm still livin' with my MOMS, you know what I'm sayin'?
That's my word, Yunusayin? 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
Yunumsayin, that shit was aight, it was cool, But my shit is
More John Blaze than that! I got John Blaze shit, And they not
Recognizing, they not sayin' I recognize, And fuck is that, who
Is you to be askin' me questions, you know what I'm sayin'? Who is you?

I gots to talk
I gotta tell what I feel
I gotta talk about my life as I see it

Biggie
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

Uhh, 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, (tell Em!) Frankie baby
Ain't no telling where
I may be, may see me in DC
At Howard Homecoming with my man Capone, dumbing
Fucking something, you should know my steelo
Went from ten Gs for blow to thirty Gs 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?)

Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more (Biggie)
Kick in the door, waving the four-four (uh-huh)
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

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'ma

Kick in the door, waving the four-four (uh-huh)
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more (uh, uh, uh)
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more (Biggie)
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
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 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 '88
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 disappearing
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 light weight, fragili, my nine milli
Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
And you still recouping, stupid stupid stupid stupid