LL Cool J

LL Cool J - I Shot Ya Remix songtekst

Je score:

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), 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. Kaiser Ceaser

 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
Vind dit lied op:
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Copyrights:

Auteur: James Todd Smith, Jean-Claude Olivier, James Brown, Lyn Collins, LL Cool J

Componist: ?

Publisher: Island Def Jam Music Group

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1995

Taal: Engels

Komt voor op: Hey Lover (1995) , All World 2 (2009) , Mr. Smith (1995)

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