Kick In The Door song by The Notorious B.I.G. from Primary Album Album not found. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Rap, Hardcore Rap, Diss music. The Record company is unknown. Released on None.
video sourced: Youtube
Kick In The Door Meaning
| [[Segue from “Hypnotize”] Biggie, Biggie, Biggie, can’t you see? Sometimes your words just hypnotize me And I just love your… [Skit] TREVIN JONES: 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 SHAY: 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? THE MAD RAPPER: 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? TREVIN JONES: Ahh, excuse me, Mr. Rapper, Mr. Rapper THE MAD RAPPER: YouknowhatI’msayin? You can’t be askin’ me no question TREVIN JONES: It’s a family-oriented show THE MAD RAPPER: I’ma tell you why I’m mad, youknowhatI’msayin? I’ma tell you why I’m mad, I’ma tell you why I’m mad These niggas is makin’ $500,000 videos, youknowsayin? They drivin’ around in hot cars, youknowsayin? They got bitches, they got all that shit TREVIN JONES: Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language THE MAD RAPPER: 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 a’ight, it was cool But my shit is J—more John Blaze than that! I got John Blaze shit And they not resp-ecognising, they not sayin’— “I recognize” And fuck is that, who is you to be askin’ me questions, youknowhatI’msayin? Who is you? , [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 befo’, 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 9 milli’ Make the whites shake, that’s why my money never funny And you still recoupin’, stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…] |
