Kick In The Door - 2014 Remastered Version

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, you know what I'm sayin'?
 Who the fuck is you? You know what I'm sayin'? (Ahh, excuse me, Mr. Rapper, Mr. Rapper)
 You can't be askin' me no question (It's a family oriented show)
 I'ma tell you why I'm mad, you know what I'm sayin'?
 I'ma tell you why I'm mad, I'ma tell you why I'm mad
 These niggas is makin' five hundred thousand dollar videos, you know sayin?
 They drivin' around in hot cars, you know I'm sayin?
 They got bitches, they got all that shit (Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language)
 You know what I'm sayin'? I'm still livin' with my moms, you know what I'm sayin'?
 That's my word, You know I'm s-?
 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
 You know I'm sayin', 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 resp-ecognising, they not sayin'
 "I recognize" And fuck is that, who is you to be askin' me questions
 You know what I'm sayin'? Who is you?
 I gots to talk
 I gotta tell what I feel
 I gotta talk about my life as I see it
 Biggie
 ♪
 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
 Uhh, 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 M.H
 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, (Tell 'em!) Frankie baby
 Ain't no telling where
 I may be, may see me in D.C
 At Howard Homecoming with my man Capone, dumbing
 Fucking something, you should know my steelo
 Went from ten Gs for blow to 30 Gs 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 (Biggie)
 Kick in the door, waving the four-four (Uh-huh)
 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'ma
 Kick in the door, waving the four-four (Uh-huh)
 All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more (Uh, uh, uh)
 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 (Biggie)
 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 '88
 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 disappearing
 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 light weight, fragili, my nine milli
 Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
 And you still recouping, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid
 
 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, you know what I'm sayin'?
 Who the fuck is you? You know what I'm sayin'? (Ahh, excuse me, Mr. Rapper, Mr. Rapper)
 You can't be askin' me no question (It's a family oriented show)
 I'ma tell you why I'm mad, you know what I'm sayin'?
 I'ma tell you why I'm mad, I'ma tell you why I'm mad
 These niggas is makin' five hundred thousand dollar videos, you know sayin?
 They drivin' around in hot cars, you know I'm sayin?
 They got bitches, they got all that shit (Sir, please, please, refrain from your foul language)
 You know what I'm sayin'? I'm still livin' with my moms, you know what I'm sayin'?
 That's my word, You know I'm s-?
 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
 You know I'm sayin', 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 resp-ecognising, they not sayin'
 "I recognize" And fuck is that, who is you to be askin' me questions
 You know what I'm sayin'? Who is you?
 I gots to talk
 I gotta tell what I feel
 I gotta talk about my life as I see it
 Biggie
 ♪
 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
 Uhh, 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 M.H
 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, (Tell 'em!) Frankie baby
 Ain't no telling where
 I may be, may see me in D.C
 At Howard Homecoming with my man Capone, dumbing
 Fucking something, you should know my steelo
 Went from ten Gs for blow to 30 Gs 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 (Biggie)
 Kick in the door, waving the four-four (Uh-huh)
 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'ma
 Kick in the door, waving the four-four (Uh-huh)
 All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more (Uh, uh, uh)
 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 (Biggie)
 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 '88
 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 disappearing
 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 light weight, fragili, my nine milli
 Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
 And you still recouping, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid