Kick in the Door (Club Mix)

[Interlude: Martin Lawrence & The Notorious B.I.G.]

I gots to talk

I gotta tell what I feel (Mhm)

I gotta talk about my life as I see it

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

(Biggie)

Uh, uh-huh

Uh, this goes out to you (Biggie)

This goes out to you

And you, and you, and you (Biggie)

This goes out to you

This goes out to you (Biggie)

This goes out to you

And you, and you (Uh)

[Verse 1]

Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns

As I crush so-called willies, thugs and rapper-dons (Uh)

Get in that ass quick-fast like Ramadan

It's that rap phenomenon Don Dada, fuck Poppa

You gotta 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 (Uh-huh)

Who's next to flip on that cat with that grip on rap?

The most shady (Tell 'em!) Frankie, baby

Ain't no tellin' where I may be

May see me in D.C

At Howard Homecoming with my man Capone, dumbin'

Fuckin' somethin', 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?")

[Chorus]

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

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

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

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

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

All you heard was "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (Biggie)

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44 (Uh-huh)

All you heard was "Poppa, don't hit me no more (Uh, uh-huh)

[Verse 2]

On ya mark, get set when I spark, ya wet

Look how dark it get when you're marked for death (Uh)

Should I start your breath, or should I let ya 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 publishin', I punish 'em (Uh-huh), I'm done with them (Uh-huh)

Son, I'm surprised you run with them

I think they got cum in them, 'cause they nothin' but dicks

Tryna 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, layin' wit' yo' bitch

I know you prayin' you was rich, fuckin' prick, when I see ya, I'ma...

[Chorus]

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44 (Uh-huh)

All you heard was "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (Uh, uh, uh)

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

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

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

All you heard was "Poppa, don't hit me no more" (Biggie)

Kick in the door, wavin' the .44

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 ya eye

Now ya braillin' it, snatch that light shit, I'm scalin' it

Conscious of ya nonsense, in '88

Sold more powder than Johnson & Johnson

Tote steel like Bronson, Vigilante

You wanna get on, son, you need to aks me

Ain't no other kings in this rap thing, they siblings

Nothin' but my children, one shot — they disappearin' (Uh)

It's ill when MCs 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 lightweight, fragili, my nine milli

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

And you still recoupin', stupid!

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid...