Testo I Shot Ya - LL Cool J
Testo della canzone I Shot Ya (LL Cool J), tratta dall'album Mr. Smith (Deluxe Edition)
Blaze this one, word up!
I'ma blaze this one
No doubt! Uh, check it, check it, check it
Uh, uh, check it, check it, check it
I'm Uncle L, check it, check it, check it
The Trackmasters, check it, check it, check it
Now everybody now, check it, check it, check it
All my niggas now, check it, check it, check it
Yeah, we 'bout to serve this one off nice, y'nahmean?
Word up, check it!
I shot ya! I'm splittin' brothers open like a doctor
You fell asleep, the vampire teeth got ya
I drop ya down in boilin' acid
You melt like plastic, elastic, it's drastic
Violations, room vibrations, son
Cock the hammer, let the Uncle give 'em one
Done, take a flick of a wicked lunatic
Putting hits on your clique, got your wifey turnin' tricks
What? You don't want her, I thought that you was ballin'
Now watch 'cause I cock your love, your girlies fallin'
Uh, what's my function? Lyrical injection
Blazin' niggas, hitting 'em raw with no protection
I take advantage, you fear me, I'm doin' damage
You hear me, the whole scenario is dreary
MCs is gettin' wet up in the game (word)
I meet you up in Memphis, just call my name
I shot ya! You want a (uh), you want a (uh)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, uh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya! You want a (uh), you want a (yeah)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya!
I got you strapped to the stage, and
Trapped in a cage and tongue kissin' the Gauge and
Your mob's locked down underneath the surface
You're gettin' nervous, for talkin' shit with no purpose
Laced up, mind charmer, mad drama
What goes around comes around, not around Farmers
Silence (shh), very deadly
Come and battle, let me add you to my medley
Possessin' power, takin' everything I can grasp
Go get it now, why you always dwellin' on the past?
Baby boys reminiscing old-school shit
Young fools get dicked, LL rules the shit
With a platinum fist, the relentless abyss
I take you to a land where piranhas like to kiss
Massacre, mwah, blowin' up the tour bus passengers
Suckin' the color out of cartoon character
You get serious
Real niggas recognize what my theory is
I shot ya! You want a (uh), you want a (uh)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, uh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya! You want a (uh), you want a (yeah)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya!
Word up, I'ma lace this shit crazy, y'nahmean?
Word up, we gon' blow the spot up, kid
No doubt about it
Yeah, yeah, nah, I ain't through, I ain't through, I ain't through
Uh-uh-uh-oh, lookin' kinda leary
Your clique thought I fell off, they didn't wanna hear me
Oh, really? Now tell me, how long have you been rhyming?
16 years, 20 million albums, yeah, you're climbing
I love your joint "Rock the Bells," it was mad hot
Yo' record 'bout the "Radio" was blowin' up my spot
My girl was on your chip when you flipped "I Need Love"
Your "Back Seat" concept was mad butter, son
I loved your "Boomin' System," it was wicked as could be
You "Bad," now I'm writin' on your "Pink Cookies"
And you had me screamin' "Mama Said Knock Ya Out"
Ya "Jinglin', Baby", no doubt
Uh, talk to me (what, what, uh, uh)
Become a zombie, walk to me
Ain't an MC alive who fought with me
Yah'mean? Mad rugged
Easy does it, I got 'em flockin' like buzzards
I shot ya (yeah), you want a (yeah), you want a (yeah)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, check it, check it, check it)
I shot ya, you want a (uh), you want a (uh)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, what, what, what, what, what)
You wanna (yeah), you wanna (yeah)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (uh, what)
I shot ya, you want a, you want a (y'nahmean?)
You want a hit, give me a hour, plus a pen and a pad (this is how we gettin' down for our crizzown)
No diggity, y'know I'm sayin'?
Trackmasters lace me, y'know I'm sayin'?
And I take care of mines, y'know Imean?
That's it, son!
Peace!
Credits
Writer(s): James Todd Smith, James Brown, Jean Claude Olivier, Lynne Collins
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