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

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