Kick in the Door lyrics

[Skit - Trevin Jones]

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. Shay - Hi, my name is Shay, and I'm from New Rochelle. and I just don't understand; why you so mad? Like, what are you so mad about? The Mad Rapper - Yo, yo, yo-yo, y'know, yo you wanna know why? Yo first of all, you can't be askin' me no question youknowhatI'msayin'? Who the fuck is you? (Ahh, excuse me, Mr. Rapper, Mr. Rapper) YouknowhatI'msayin? You can't be askin' me no question (It's a family oriented show)

I'ma tell you why I'm mad, youknowhatI'msayin? I'ma tell you why I'm mad, I'ma tell you why I'm mad. These niggas is makin' five hundred thousand dollar videos, youknowsayin? They drivin' around in hot cars, youknowsayin? They got bitches, they got all that shit (Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language). YouknowhatI'ms--? I'm still livin' with my Moms, youknowhatI'msayin?

That's my word. YouknowI'ms--? 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 YouknowI'msayin, that shit was aight, it was cool. But my shit is J--more John Blaze than that! I got John Blaze shit And they not resp-ecognising, they not sayin, "I recognize" And fuck is that, who is you to be askin' me questions, youknowhatI'msayin? Who is you?

[Interlude: Martin Lawerance]

I gots to talk

I gotta tell what I feel

I gotta talk about my life as I see it

[Intro - The Notorious B.I.G.]

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

[Verse 1]

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 D.C. at Howard Homecoming

With my man Capone, gumming, fucking something

You should know my steelo

Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's 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?")

[Hook]

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

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

[Verse 2]

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'mma

[Hook]

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

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

[Verse 3]

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 eighty-eight

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 disappearin'

It's ill when MC's 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, fragile, my nine milli

Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny

And you still recouping, stupid stupid stupid stupid..

• Artist:The Notorious B.I.G.