Notorious B.I.G. › Lyrics › Who Shot Ya

As we proceed to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers, get live motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers, get live motherfuckers

Now turn the mics up, turn that mic up
Yeah, that beat is knockin' to that microphone
Turn that shit the fuck up, uh, what?
Turn it up louder, yeah, uh

As we proceed, to give you what you need
J.M. motherfuckers, J.M. motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers

Who shot ya, separate the weak from the obsolete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
It's on nigga, fuck all that bickerin' beef
I can hear sweat tricklin' down your cheek

Your heartbeat soun' like Sasquatch feet
Thunderin', shakin' the concrete
Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops, said they heard mad shots

Saw me in the drop, 3 in the corner
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 ya-yo
Peel more skins than Idaho potato
Niggaz know, the lyrical molestin' is takin' place
Fuckin' with B.I.G. it ain't safe

I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land cruisers
Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools
Niggaz mad because I know that Cash Rules

Everythin' around me, two glock nines
Any motherfucker whisperin' about mines
And I'm Crooklyn's finest
You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this

As we proceed to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers, get live motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need
East coast motherfuckers, Bad Boy motherfuckers

Get high motherfuckers, get high motherfuckers
Smoke blunts motherfuckers, get high motherfuckers
Ready to die motherfuckers, 9 to 5 motherfuckers

I seen the light excite all the freaks
Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps
Niggaz wanna creep, got to watch my back
Think the Cognac and Indo sack make me slack?

I switches all that, cock-sucker 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 fuck with raw C-Poppa'
Feel a thousand deaths when I drop ya

I feel for you, like Chaka Khan, I'm the don
Pussy 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 nigga, brave nigga

Turned front page nigga, Puff Daddy flips daily
I smoke the blunts, he slips on the Bailey's
On the rocks, tote glocks at christenings
And my cock, in the fire position and what?
(Get live motherfuckers)
(Ready to die motherfuckers)

C'mere, c'mere, open your fucking mouth, open your
Didn't I tell you don't fuck with me, huh?
Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me, huh?
Look at you now, huh?
Can't talk with a gun in your mouth, huh?
Bitch-ass nigga, what?

(Who shot ya?)
As we proceed to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers, get live motherfuckers
(Who shot ya?)
Get high motherfuckers, ready to die motherfuckers, hah
(Who shot ya?)

As we proceed to give you what you need
(Who shot ya?)
9 to 5 motherfuckers, east coast motherfuckers
(Who shot ya?)

West coast motherfuckers, west coast motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need
As we proceed to give you what you need

Get live motherfuckers, get live motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers, get money motherfuckers

As we proceed to give you what you need
Get live motherfuckers, 9 to 5 motherfuckers
J.M. motherfuckers, J.M. motherfuckers
As we proceed to give you what you need