Lyrics Who Shot Ya - The Notorious B.I.G.

Who Shot Ya

9−5, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need
9−5, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers (Now turn the mics up)
As we proceed to give you what you need (Turn that mic up)
(Yeah, that beat is knocking, I need that mic up, though)
(Turn that shit the fuck up)
East Coast, motherfuckers (Uh, what?)
Bad Boy, motherfuckers (Turn it up louder, yeah, uh)
As we proceed to give you what you need
J.M., motherfuckers
J.M., motherfuckers (Uh)
9−5, motherfuckers (Uh)
Who shot ya?
Separate the weak from the obsolete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
It’s on, nigga, fuck all that bickerin' beef
I can hear sweat tricklin' down your cheek
Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet
Thunderin', shakin' the concrete
Then the shit stop when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops, said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, three and a quarter
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 yayo
Peel more skins than Idaho Potato
Niggas know;
the lyrical molesting is taking place
Fucking with B.I.G., it ain’t safe
I make your skin chafe, rashes on them asses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land Cruisers
Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools
Niggas mad because I know that cash rules
Everything around me, two Glock nines
Any motherfucker whispering about mines (And I’m)
And I’m Crooklyn’s finest (Crooklyn's finest)
You rewind this, Bad Boy’s behind this (Bad Boy’s behind this)
As we proceed to give you what you need (What?)
9−5, motherfuckers (What?)
Get live, motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need (What?)
East Coast, motherfuckers
Bad Boy, motherfuckers
Get high, motherfuckers
Get high, motherfuckers (Uh, uh)
Smoke blunts, motherfuckers (Uh)
Get high, motherfuckers (9−5, uh)
Ready to die, motherfuckers (Uh)
9−5, motherfuckers (Uh)
I seen the light excite all the freaks
Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps
Niggas wanna creep, gotta watch my back
Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack?
I switches all that, cocksucker, 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 nor see Poppa
Feel a thousand deaths when I drop you
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 Baileys
On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings
Hammer cock, in the fire position and—
Come here, come here (It ain’t gotta be like that, B.I.G.)
Open your fucking mouth, open your—
Didn’t I tell you don’t fuck with me?
(Come on, man) Huh?
Didn’t I tell you not to fuck with me?
(Come on, man) Huh?
(Come on, man) Look at you now, huh?
(Come on, man)
Can’t talk with a gun in your mouth, huh?
Bitch-ass nigga, what?
Who shot you?
To give you what you need
9−5, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers
Get high, motherfuckers (Who shot ya?)
Ready to die, motherfuckers, hah!
As we proceed (Who shot ya?)
To give you what you need
9−5, motherfuckers
East Coast, motherfucker (Who shot ya?)
West Coast, motherfuckers (Uh)
West Coast, motherfuckers, hah!
As we proceed to give you what you need
As we proceed to give you what you need (As we proceed to give you what you
need)
Get live, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers (Get live, motherfuckers)
9−5, motherfuckers (9−5, motherfuckers)
Get money, motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need (As we proceed to give you what you
need)
Get live, motherfuckers (Get live, motherfuckers)
9−5, motherfuckers
J.M., motherfuckers
J.M., motherfuckers
As we proceed
To give you what you need