Who Shot Ya (Serj Tankian Remix, Marc Ecko's Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure OST)
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