I Shot Ya

[Intro: LL Cool J]

Blaze this one, word up!

I'ma blaze this one

No doubt! Uhh, check it, check it, check it

Uhh, uhh, check it, check it, check it

I'm Uncle L, check it, check it, check it

The Trackmasters, check it, check it, check it

Now everybody now, check it, check it, check it

All my niggas now, check it, check it, check it

Yeah, we 'bout to serve this one off nice, y'nahmean?

Word up, check it!

[Verse 1: LL Cool J]

I shot ya! I'm splittin' brothers open like a doctor

You fell asleep, the vampire teeth got ya

I drop ya down in boilin' acid

You melt like plastic, elastic, it's drastic

Violations, room vibrations, son

Cock the hammer let the Uncle give 'em one

Done, take a flick of a wicked lunatic

Putting hits on your clique, got your wifey turnin' tricks

What? You don't want her, I thought that you was ballin'

Now watch 'cause I cock your love, your girlies fallin'

Uh, what's my function? Lyrical injection

Blazin' niggas, hitting 'em raw with no protection

I take advantage, you fear me, I'm doin' damage

You hear me, the whole scenario is dreary

MCs is gettin' wet up in the game (Word)

I meet you up in Memphis, just call my name

[Chorus: LL Cool J & Keith Murray]

I shot ya! Ya want a... (Uh) ya want a... (Uh)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, uh, check it, check it, check it)

I shot ya! Ya want a... ya want a... (yeah)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, check it, check it, check it)

I shot ya

[Verse 2: LL Cool J]

I got you strapped to the stage, and

Trapped in a cage and tongue kissin' the Gauge and

Your mob's locked down underneath the surface

You're gettin' nervous, for talkin' shit with no purpose

Laced up, mind charmer, mad drama

What goes around comes around – not around Farmers

Silence... shhh – very deadly

Come and battle, let me add you to my medley

Possessin' power, takin everything I can grasp

Go get it now, why you always dwellin' on the past?

Baby boys reminiscing old school shit

Young fools get dicked, LL rules the shit

With a platinum fist, the relentless abyss

I take you to a land where piranhas like to kiss

Massacre, mwah, blowin' up the tour bus passengers

Suckin' the color out of cartoon character

You get serious

Real niggas recognize what my theory is

[Chorus: LL Cool J & Keith Murray]

I shot ya! Ya want a... (Uh) ya want a... (Uh)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, uh, check it, check it, check it)

I shot ya! Ya want a... ya want a... (yeah)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, check it, check it, check it)

I shot ya

[Bridge: LL Cool J]

I shot ya!

Word up, I'ma lace this shit crazy, y'nahmean?

Word up, we gonna blow the spot up, kid

No doubt about it

Yeah, yeah, nah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I ain't through

[Verse 3: LL Cool J]

Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda leary

Your clique thought I fell off, they didn't wanna hear me

Oh really? Now tell me, how long have you been rhyming?

Sixteen years, twenty million albums, yeah, you're climbing

I love your joint "Rock the Bells," it was mad hot

Ya record 'bout the "Radio" was blowin' up my spot

My girl was on your chip when you flipped "I Need Love"

Your "Back Seat" concept was mad butter, son

I loved your "Boomin' System," it was wicked as could be

You "Bad," now I'm writin' on your "Pink Cookies"

And you had me screamin' "Mama Said Knock Ya Out"

Ya "Jinglin', Baby" – no doubt

Uh, talk to me (What, what, uhh, uhh)

Become a zombie, walk to me

Ain't an MC alive who fought with me

Yah'mean? Mad rugged

Easy does it, I got 'em flockin' like buzzards

[Chorus: LL Cool J & Keith Murray]

I shot ya (Yeah), ya want a... (Yeah), ya want a... (Yeah)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, check it, check it, check it)

I shot ya, Ya want a... (uh), ya wanta... (uh)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(Uh, what, what, what, what, what)

Ya wanna (yeah) ya wanna (yeah)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (Uh, what)

I shot ya, Ya want a... ya want a... (Y'nahmean?)

Ya want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad

(This is how we gettin' down for our crizzown)

[Outro: LL Cool J]

No Diggity, y'knowI'msayin?

Trackmasters lace me, y'knowI'msayin?

And I take care of mines, y'knowImean?

That's it, son!

Peace!