LL Cool J (feat. Fat Joe, Foxy Brown, Keith Murray, Prodigy) "I Shot Ya (Remix)"
[Verse One: Keith Murray] Haaah! (wooooooo!) Yeah, (hah, hah, hah, hah) L.O.D. Keith Murray, Def Squad Mista, Mista, Mista, Mista Smith You wanna hit? (You wanna hit?) Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad
Yo... I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin a shit My style is all that, and a big bag of chips wit the dip Fuck all that sensuous shit I represent intellectual violence And leave your click holier than the Ten Commandments Like Redman I shift with tha ruck If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up [Word up!] No need to ask you who is he, Son I get busy Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many ruff cities [Chicago, LA, any of them] I'll have to Norman Bate ya I love ta hate ya Cause youse a freak by nature Can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya Drink your style down straight wit no chaser [Word up!] My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back As soon as one of you niggaz try to over react [BLAOW!] Tha L.O.D. love good confrontation or vamp [Word up!] Break your concentration, murder your camp For tha jealous, overzealous, we fellaz Blow the the spot like Branford Marsalis Niggaz comin through and actin wild Y'all commercial niggaz better have a Coke and a smile I SHOT YA!
[Verse Two: Prodigy] Yo, I conversate wit many men, it's time to begin again Forgot what I already knew, aiyyo you hear me friend? Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body Secret society, tryin to keep they eye on me But I'm stay incogni', in places they can't find me Make my moves strategically, the G.O.D. It's sorta similar but iller than a chess player I use my thinker, it coincides with my blinker While you wondered what we sayin on the records real Yeah you motherfuckin right kid you know the deal My Mobb is Infamous just like the fuckin title read You get back slapped so hard make ya nose bleed Some ---- kids feeling guilty bout the ---- But you first baby girl so just face it (awright) But anyway, back on the real side of things My niggaz sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings Not only is it inside the songs that we sing (kid) Everything is real not just a song that we sing (word up, it's real) From my life to the paper (what); INSERT INTO `lyrics_raphot` (`id`, `artist`, `artist_id`, `artist2_id`, `feat`, `title`, `article`, `album`, `body`, `wap`, `date`, `publish`) VALUES very accurately Give you all of my two so maybe you can three Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E (shine baby, just shine) My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea How dare you ever in your life walk past me Without acknowledgin this man as G-O-D I shot ya faggot ass
[Verse Three: Fat Joe] Now who the fuck you think you talkin to, I pay dues I spray crews Look I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news Runnin this racket, from New York to Montego Slaughterin people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico I'd rather be feared than loved because the fear lasts longer These bitch ass niggaz know we stronger Than these weaklings, seekin, for respect that ain't there Knuckleheads beware, there's mad tension in the air Tommy guns for fun, shotties for block parties While fresh lead heats up your insides like a fifth of Bacardi Call the ambulance, this man's wet Bullets cut him down from the root up just like a Gillette razor, which I keep hidden in my oral Ready to spatter, at any ad out, that wants to quarrel These feds want me for some tax evasion Now that the fact that somebody's gettin lucci that's not caucasian Bullets be blazin through these streets filled with torture [what the deal pop] Joey Crack, a.k.a. Keyser Soze
[Verse Four: Foxxy Brown] Thug niggaz give they minks to chinks To' down we sip drinks rockin minks, flashin rings and things [what the deal] Frontin hardcore deep inside the Jeep, mackin Doin my thing fly nigga you a Scarface king Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggaz for they chedda Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers Flossin rocks like the size of Fort Knox Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy bangin like Versace locs pops [what the deal] Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks I'm sexin raw dog without protection, diseaese infested Uh, Italiano got the Lucciano I gets down fuckin with Brown Fox extra keys to the drop Boo I'm Jingling Baby, I got crazy Dominicans who pay me to lay low, I play slow Roll with tha Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin It all real nigga what tha deal I shot ya!
[Verse Five: LL Cool J] What the fuck? I thought I conquered the whole world Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl But still, niggaz want to instigate shit I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game quick Name the spot, I make it hot for ya bitches Female rappers too, I don't give a fuck boo Word, I'm here to crush all my peers Rhymes of the month in The Source for twenty years Niggaz scared, I'm detrimental to your mental state I use my presedential Rolex to be debate Niggaz fight, glock cocked ya temple gets fucked MC's, that fuck with LL they gets bucked That's real, what's up with that I Shot Ya deal? Light shit, niggaz slip now how the bullet feel? New York appeal, in L.A. they gang bang But if you touch a mic your motherfuckin ass hang That's facts, niggaz don't recieve no type of slack Cause if they do, they ass is always runnin back Not this time, but next time I'ma name names LL, shittin from on top of the game I SHOT YA!