"Who Shot Ya? [Radio Edit]" as written by and Herbert/wrubel Magidson....
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 (As we proceed)
Turn that mic up, yea that beat is knockin', need that mic up tho (To give you what you need)
Turn that shit the fuck up (East coast motherfuckers)
Uh, what? (Bad Boy motherfuckers)
Turn it up louder
Yea, uh

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

Who shot ya?
Seperate the weak from the ob-solete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef
I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek
Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet
Thundering, shaking the concrete
Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, three and a quarter
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 yayo
Peel more skins than Idaho potato
Niggas know, the lyrics 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
Niggas mad because I know that cash rules
Everything around me two Glock 9s
Any motherfucker whispering 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
Niggas wanna creep, gotta watch my back
Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack?
I switches all that, cocksucker 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 nor see 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 sips on the Baileys
On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings
Hammer cock, in the fire position and

Get live motherfuckers
Ready to Die motherfuckers

Come here, come here
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?
(Get live motherfuckers)


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Who Shot Ya" as written by Herb Magidson Sean Combs

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., MUSIC SALES CORPORATION

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Who Shot Ya? [Radio Edit] song meanings
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