Kick In The Door

Welcome back We're here on Bad Boy Television, and I'm Trevin Jones And I've been conversing with the Mad Rapper And quite frankly, he's very mad We're gonna try to find out why, so we'll take some questions At this point from our studio audience Yes, ma'am, please stand and state your name and where you're from Hi, my name is Shay, and I'm from New Rochelle And I just don't understand why you so mad Like, what are you so mad about Yo, yo, yo yo, y'know, yo you wanna know why, yo first of all You can't be askin' me no question youknowhatI'msayin Who the fuck is you Ahh, excuse me, Mr Rapper, Mr Rapper YouknowhatI'msayin You can't be askin' me no question It's a family oriented show I'mma tell you why I'm mad, youknowhatI'msayin I'mma tell you why I'm mad I'mma tell you why I'm mad These niggas is makin' five hundred thousand dollar videos, youknowsayin They drivin' around in hot cars, youknowsayin They got bitches, they got all that shit Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language YouknowhatI'ms I'm still livin with my Moms, youknowhatI'msayin That's my word YouknowI'ms I'm makin' records, I ain't made no money Yet I done made this is my fourth album yo, this my fourth album I ain't made a dime yet This nigga made one album, he makin' wild records That Ready to Die shit, it was aight, it was aight YouknowI'msayin, that shit was aight, it was cool But my shit is J more John Blaze than that I got John Blaze shit And they not rish recognizing, they not sayin, I recognize And fuck is that, who is you to be askin' me questions, youknowhatI'msayin Who is you I gots to talk I gotta tell what I feel I gotta talk about my life as I see it This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you, and you This goes out to you This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns As I crush so called willies, thugs, and rapper dons Get in that ass, quick fast, like Ramadan It's that rap phenomenon Don Dada, fuck Poppa You got to call me Francis MH White Intake light tokes, tote iron Was told in shootouts, stay low and keep firin' Keep extra clips for extra shit Who's next to flip on that cat with that grip on rap The most shady, Frankie baby Ain't no telling where I may be May see me in DC at Howard Homecoming With my man Capone, gumming, fucking something 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 Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get when you're marked for death Should I start your breath or should I let you 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 publishing, I punish em, I'm done with them Son, I'm surprised you run with them I think they got cum in them cause they nothing but dicks Trying to 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, laying with your bitch I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick When I see ya I'mma Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, waving the four four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more This goes out for those that choose to use Disrespectful views on the King of N Y Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye Now ya brailling it, snatch that light shit, I'm scaling it Conscious of ya nonsense, in eighty eight Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson Tote steel like Bronson, Vigilante You wanna get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other kings in this rap thing They siblings, nothing but my children One shot they disappearin' It's ill when MC's 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 light weight, fragile, my nine milli Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny And you still recouping, stupid