Bad Boy Records - Who Shot Ya? lyrics

[Produced by Nashiem Myrick] [Intro: Puffy] As we proceed to give you what you need 9-5, motherf**ers Get live, motherf**ers As we proceed to give you what you need 9-5, motherf**ers Get live, motherf**ers As we proceed to give you what you need Now turn the mics up East Coast, motherf**ers Turn that mic up Bad Boy, motherf**ers Yeah, that beat is knocking to that microphone Turn that sh** the f** up Uh, what? Turn it up louder, yeah, uh As we proceed to give you what you need J.M. motherf**ers J.M. motherf**ers 9-5, motherf**ers [Verse 1] Who shot ya? Separate the weak from the obsolete Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets It's on n***a, f** all that bickering beef I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet Thundering, shaking the concrete Then the sh** 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 n***as know: the lyrical molesting is taking place f**ing with B.I.G. it ain't safe I make your skin chafe, rashes on them a**es Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land Cruisers Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools n***as mad because I know that cash rules Everything around me two Glock 9s Any motherf**er whispering about mines And I'm Crooklyn's finest You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this [Interlude] As we proceed to give you what you need 9-5, motherf**ers Get live, motherf**ers As we proceed to give you what you need East Coast, motherf**ers Bad Boy, motherf**ers Get high, motherf**ers Get high, motherf**ers Smoke blunts, motherf**ers Get high, motherf**ers Ready to die, motherf**ers 9-5, motherf**ers [Verse 2] I seen the light excite all the freaks Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps n***as wanna creep, gotta watch my back Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack? I switches all that, co*ks**er 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 f** with nor see Poppa Feel a thousand d**hs when I drop ya I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don p**y 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 n***a Brave n***a, turned front page n***a Puff Daddy flips daily I smoke the blunts he sips on the Baileys On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings Hammer co*k, in the fire position and... [Outro] Come here, come here, (It ain't gotta be like that, Big) Open your f**ing mouth, open your—didn't I tell you? Don't f** with me? (Come on, man) Huh? Didn't I tell you not to f** with me? (Come on, man) Look at you now, huh? (Come on, man) Can't talk with a gun in your mouth, huh? b**h-a** n***a, what? Who shot ya? [6 gunshots]​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ [Outro: Puffy] To give you what you need 9-5, motherf**ers Get live, motherf**ers (who shot ya?) Get high, motherf**ers Ready to die, motherf**ers, hah! As we proceed (who shot ya?) To give you what you need 9-5, motherf**ers East Coast, motherf**er (Who shot ya?) West Coast, motherf**ers West Coast, motherf**ers, hah! As we proceed, to give you what you need As we proceed to give you what you need Get live, motherf**ers 9-5, motherf**ers Get money, motherf**ers As we proceed to give you what you need Get live, motherf**ers 9-5, motherf**ers J.M. motherf**ers J.M. motherf**ers As we proceeeeeeed to give you what you need… 9-5