Tom: C major
Intro 1
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C
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C
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C
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C
Verse 1
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the top was short like leprechauns
As I crush so-called willies, willies,
thugs, and rapper-dons
C
F
Get Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan
Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda,
F
You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White
Bb
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In tank-light totes, totes, tote iron
C
F
Was told in shootouts, stay low,
and keep firin
Cm
F
C
Keep extra clips for ex tra shit
Who's next to flip,
E
F
on that cat with that grip on rap
The mo shady,
"Tell em!", Frankie baby
C
Ain't no telling where I may be
F
May see me in D.C. at Howard
Homecoming
With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking
C
something
F
You should know my steelo
Went from ten G's for blow
Bb
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to thirty G's a show
B
F
To orgies with hoes I never seen before
C
So, Jesus, get off the Notorious
F
Penis, before I squeeze and bust
Bb
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If the beef between us, we can settle it
C
With the chrome and metal shit
F
I make it hot, like a kettle get
You're delicate, you better get,
who sent ya?
F
I got more rides than Great Adventure
C
Biggie, "How are you gonna do it?"
Verse 2
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Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 3
don't hit me no more
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 4
don't hit me no more
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 5
don't hit me no more
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
C
All All you heard was Poppa
don't hit me no more
Verse 6
C
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On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet
Look how dark it get,
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when ya marked with death
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Should I start your breath should I let you die
In fear you start to cry, ask why
C
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Lyrically, I'm worser,
don't front the word sick
You cursed it, but rehearsed it
C
F
I drop unexpectedly like bird shit
C
You herbs get, stuck quickly for
royalties and show money
F
Don't forget the publishing,
I punish em, I'm done with them
Son, I'm surprised you run with them
C
I think they got cum in them,
F
cause they, nothing but dicks
Trying to blow up like nitro
Bb
F
an d dynamite sticks
B
F
Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds,
that's sick
Got pay off my flow,
F
Take trips to Cairo, laying with yo bitch
I know you praying you was rich,
Verse 7
When I see ya I'ma
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 8
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 9
don't hit me no more
B
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 10
don't hit me no more
C
F
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
C
All All you heard was Poppa
Verse 11
don't hit me no more
C
F
This goes out for those that
choose to use
Disrespectful views on the King of NY
C
F
Fuck that, why try,
throw bleach in your eye
Now ya Braille in it, stash that light shit,
or scalin it
C
F
Conscience of ya nonsense
in eighty-eight
Sold Sold more powder than Johnson
and Johnson
C
F
Tote steel like Bronson, vigilante
Cm
You want to get on son,
F
Ain't no other king in this
rap thing
They siblings,
nothing but my children
One shot, they disappearing
C
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Its ill when,
MC's used to be on cruddy shit
Took home, Ready to Die,
listened, studied shit
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Now they on some money shit,
successful out the blue
They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly
C
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Make the white shake,
that's why my money never funny
And you still recouping, stupid
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