Kick in the Door - Club Mix

Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns

As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons

Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan

Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa

You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White

In tank-light totes, tote iron

Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin

Keep extra clips for extra shit

Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap

The mo shady, "Tell em!", Frankie baby

Ain't no telling where I may be

May see me in D.C. at Howard Homecoming

With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking something

You should know my steelo

Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show

To orgies with hoes I never seen before

So, Jesus, get off the Notorious

Penis, before I squeeze and bust

If the beef between us, we can settle it

With the chrome and metal shit

I make it hot, like a kettle get

You're delicate, you better get, who sent ya?

You still pedal shit, I got more rides than Great Adventure

Biggie, "How are you gonna do it?"

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet

Look how dark it get, when ya marked with death

Should I start your breath should I let you die

In fear you start to cry, ask why

Lyrically, I'm worser, don't front the word sick

You cursed it, but rehearsed it

I drop unexpectedly like bird shit

You herbs get, stuck quickly for royalties and show money

Don't forget the publishing, I punish em, I'm done with them

Son, I'm surprised you run with them

I think they got cum in them, cause they, nothing but dicks

Trying to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks

Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds, that's sick

Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own click

Take trips to Cairo, laying with yo bitch

I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick

When I see ya I'ma

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

Kick in the door, waving the four-four

All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more

This goes out for those that choose to use

Disrespectful views on the King of NY

Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye

Now ya Braille in it, stash that light shit, or scalin it

Conscience of ya nonsense in eighty-eight

Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson

Tote steel like Bronson, vigilante

You want to get on son, you need to ask me

Ain't no other king in this rap thing

They siblings, nothing but my children

One shot, they disappearing

Its ill when, MC's used to be on cruddy shit

Took home, Ready to Die, listened, studied shit

Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue

They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly

Make the white shake, that's why my money never funny

And you still recouping, stupid