Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Somebody's Gotta Die , by - The Notorious B.I.G.. Release date: 03.03.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Somebody's Gotta Die |
| I’m sittin in the crib dreamin about Leer jets and coupes |
| The way Salt shoops and how they sell records like Snoop |
| Oops! |
| I’m interrupted by a doorbell |
| 3:52, who the hell |
| Is this? |
| I gets up quick |
| Cocks my shit |
| Stop the dogs from barkin |
| Then proceed to walkin |
| Its a face that I seen before |
| My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor |
| Check it I look deeper |
| I see blood up on his sneakers |
| And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth |
| So I dip |
| Nigga, is you creepin or speakin? |
| He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the beacon |
| I opens up the door, pitiful |
| Is he in critical? |
| Retaliation for this one won’t be minimal |
| Cuz I’m a criminal |
| Way before the rap shit |
| Bust the gat shit |
| Puff won’t even know what happened, |
| If it’s done smoothly |
| Silencers on the Uzi |
| Stash in the hooptie |
| My alibi, any cutie |
| With a booty that done fuck the Pop |
| Head spinnin, reminiscin bout my man C-Rock |
| Chorus: repeat 2X |
| Somebody’s got ta die |
| If I got, you got ta go Somebody’s got to die |
| Let the gunshots blow |
| Somebody’s got to die |
| Nobody got ta know |
| That I killed yo ass in the mist, kid |
| Fillin clips he explained our situation |
| Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin |
| Some kid named Jason |
| In a Honda station wagon |
| Was braggin |
| About how much loot and crack he stackin |
| Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique |
| Small crew |
| 'Round the time I was locked up with you |
| True indeed |
| But yo nigga let me proceed |
| Don’t fill them clips too high |
| Give them bullets room to breathe |
| Damn where was I? |
| Yeah |
| One night in town |
| Blew the fuck up D-Rock went home |
| And Jay got stuck the fuck up Hit 'em twice |
| Got 'em right for the virgin white |
| Pistol whipped his kids |
| And taped up his wife |
| He said Yo Rock, set em up, no question |
| Wet em up no less |
| Than 50 shots in his direction |
| How many shots? |
| Man nigga, I seen mad holes |
| What kinda gats? |
| Hitch links, Cocks, and Calicoles |
| But fuck that |
| I know where all them niggas rest at In the buildin hustlin |
| And they don’t be strapped |
| Supreme in black |
| Is downstairs, the engine runnin |
| Find a bag to put the guns in And c’mon if yo comin |
| Exchanged hugs and pounds before the throw down |
| How its gonna go down |
| Lay these niggas low-down |
| Slow down |
| Fuck all that plannin shit |
| Run up in they cribs |
| And make em catch the man n shit |
| See niggas like you do ten year bids |
| Miss the niggas they want |
| And murder innocent kids |
| Not I One niggas in my eye |
| That’s Jason |
| Ain’t no slugs gonna be wasted |
| Revenge I’m tastin at the tip of my lips |
| I can’t wait to feel my clip in his hips |
| Pass the chocolate |
| Thai |
| Sing ain’t lie |
| There’s Jason with his back to me Talkin to his faculty |
| I start to get a funny feelins |
| Put the mask on in case his niggas start squealin |
| Scream his name out |
| Squeeze six knuckles shorter |
| Nigga turned around holdin his daughter |