lirik lagu papoose - who shot ya? (uncle murda diss)
who shot ya?
separate the thugs from the coppas
its hard to creep them brooklyn streets
its on n-gga
f-ck all that bickering beef
i can hear blood trickling down your cheek
your heart beat sound like a doug e. fresh beat
thunderous
shaking the concrete
just wouldn’t sidop, pull the plidop
neighbors called the cidops, they heard mad shidops
n-ggas saw me in the lidac, bending the corner
slidaughter, tri-die, snitdit, chip you wanna?
old school, new school need to learn lame
i burn baby burn like jet fuel in hot plane
rep my cl!ck like tony yayo
peel more skins then washington yo
n-ggas know, the lyrical -ss-ssins in the place
f-ckin’ wit p-a-p it ain’t safe
i make your bone’s brake
you scatter when it shatter
scars and deep wounds, you and your weak goons
thuga thuga smash lames, mash lames
n-ggas mad because i know that cash change
everything around me true gun busta
any mother f-cka whispering thuga
and i’m brooklyn’s nicest, you rewind this, thug-a-cation behind this
big got hit up on that p-ssenger side
pac got hit up on that p-ssenger side
left you on your man lap in the ride, hat in the back of the ride
your dumb -ss riding the p-ssenger side
but who shot ya?
was it the doctor? was it the crossing guard? was it the coppa’s?
you dialed 911, did u call for help? did somebody shoot you? or you shot yourself?
its like knots landing
who shot jr?
but you know who shot you
c’mon babe parr?
you telling lies yo? was you high yo? or you ain’t see the shooter cause you had your eyes closed?
i bring poetic justice wit my rhymes yo
you ain’t 2pac shakur you chicago
you ain’t suge knight n-gga you vanilla ice
i hang you off your projects scared for your life
you ain’t 50 cent n-gga you whatcha ma call it, thuga-holic, clutchin’ the taurus?
keep talking about you smokin’ loosies
you smoke woolies, you puff crack
who shot ya?
man you better shoot them back
little dirty -ss n-gga made a few bum raps
club hoppin’, never pull up strapped
why would i give it to a n-gga where he blew up at? when i can go to his hood and give it to him where he grew up at, on ya own block d-mn that’s disrespectful
you food; heard the dogs put you on the menu
listen nephew
n-ggas found you and left you
respect the shooter, cause the shooter don’t respect you
call in the radio, talking about you got banged up
he ain’t give u a haircut
he gave you a shape up
a shape up cost 7 dollars
you need to thank us, cause you ain’t even pay us
and we hooked your fade up
his side burns burning, but next time you cross me i’ma make sure my barber give u a baldy
catch you on the back block and gave you a flat top
this lil -ssh0l- got shot in his afro, now he thinks he suge knight, 2pac and rambo
this puerto rican dude was there said, “d-mn bro”
and bubble vests is played out, you weirdo
you asked for it so here it goes
caught you by the corner store you was sleeha?
poppy said mira
my n-ggas stay calm, his panic like boricua
papoose is a cowboy yee-ha!
you was running like knee-highs, in them tight -ss levi’s
man who lies on his d-ck, is a spineless one
but ain’t nothing is worst then a man who lies on his gun
studio gangsta, boy, i’m tired of you
you bust a shot back, you liar you
you said the copper shot you, what u tryna do?
you shot at the cops and they haven’t indited you?
and what was you doing there? who invited you?
wasn’t dirty d-ckey suit wearing, driving you?
you were screaming like a girl, and he was crying too
how the shooters knew you was there? stupid he lying to you
your cosigners no rider for cosigning you and your entire lying crew
the cops hit sean bell with 50 shots just because they thought he had a gun
you shot at the cops and they only hit you with one?
you said they got there in 10 minutes, the rookies and the sargent
if the police shot you then where’s al sharpton?
first you got grazed an the bullets in your head
nypd carry nines, you woulda been dead
lets get this straight, you shot at the police
said they took you to the hospital back on the streets
c’mon are we supposed to believe this stuff?
what the h-ll are you be smokin’ when you think this up?
had you rapping from the hospital and it was so boring
the doctor said take two of these and call me in the morning
no lil wayne songs ok murk?
cause wayne made “make it rain” and when it rain your head hurt
heard of drop dime snitching i heard of dry snitching
but you startin some new sh-t, this n-gga lie snitching
when the banger pop you ain’t supposed to say a lot
when they ask who shot ya, this fool say the cops
then you mentioning names weather you play or not
i can see you like getting n-ggas sent a way a lot
the game is hot i make my way up top
as long as they put you in the cell with me when the gate get locked
word to my savior op without a razor or ox
i have you washing my drawers and cleaning my favorite socks
lets clash just name a spot
a corner, a vacant lot
then we could be trading shots
like wall street trading stocks
think you creating props by claiming you waving glocks
disgrace and degrade your block
you broke i’m making gwap
gave you a blatant shot
you started the shake and drop
head bleeding like a period p-ssy
your face is tw-t
i’m hot as the devil
you just a demon on satan’s c-ck
mad cause i stay on top
but when do the hating stop?
and usually i don’t say a lot
but i’m bout to turn this mr. potato head n-gga to tater tots
and when the clocks go back
you rearrange clock
i’m so ahead of my time i don’t change my watch
and you wasn’t in the united states when you got shot
you was in another state its called the state of shock
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