Kick In The Door (Club Mix)

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 Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White In tank-light totes, 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 mo 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 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 ya marked with death Should I start your breath should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why Lyrically, I'm worser, 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 pay off my flow, rhyme with my own click Take trips to Cairo, laying with yo bitch I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick When I see ya I'ma 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 NY Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye Now ya Braille in it, stash that light shit, or scalin it Conscience of ya nonsense in eighty-eight Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson Tote steel like Bronson, vigilante You want to get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other king in this rap thing They siblings, nothing but my children One shot, they disappearing Its 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, fragilly, my nine milly Make the white shake, that's why my money never funny And you still recouping, stupid