The Notorious B.I.G. - Somebody Gotta Die
01
Copied!
{Verse 1}
Ah, ah!
I'm sittin' in the crib dreamin' about Lear jets and coupes
The way Salt shoops and how to sell records like Snoop (oops!)
I'm interrupted by a doorbell
3:52 - who the hell is this?
I gets up quick, cocks my shit
Stop the dogs from barkin', then proceed to walkin'
It's a face that I seen before
My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
Check it!
I look deeper; I see blood up on his sneakers
And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
So I dip
Nigga, is you creepin' or speakin'?
He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the Beacon
I opens up the door, pitiful: "Is he in critical?"
Retaliation for this one won't be minimal
'Cause I'm a criminal
Way before the rap shit
Bust the gat shit; Puff won't even know what happened
If it's done smoothly, silencers on the Uzi
Stash in the hooptie, my alibi: any cutie
With a booty that done fuck Big Pop
Head spinnin', reminiscin' 'bout my man C-Rock
{Chorus}
Somebody gotta die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody got to die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
Somebody got to die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
{Verse 2}
Uhh, fillin' clips, he explained our situation
Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin'
"Some kid named Jason
In a Honda station wagon
Was braggin', about how much loot and crack he stackin'
Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique
A small crew, 'round the time I was locked up with you"
"True indeed"
"But yo nigga, let me proceed
Don't fill them clips too high
Give them bullets room to breathe
Damn, where was I? Yeah
Went outta town, blew the fuck up
D-Roc went home
And Jay got stuck the fuck up
Hit him twice, caught him right for the Persian white
Pistol whipped his kids and taped up his wife (niggas is trife)
He figured Rock set 'em up, no question
Wet 'em up no less
Than 50 shots in his direction" (uhh)
"How many shots?"
"Man nigga, I seen mad holes"
"What kinda gats?"
"Hitchlinks, Kochs, and Calicos"
But fuck that
I know where all them niggas rest at
In the buildin' hustlin'
And they don't be strapped
Supreme in black is downstairs, the engine runnin'
Find a bag to put the guns in
And c'mon if you're comin'
{Chorus}
Somebody gotta die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody got to die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
Somebody got to die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
{Verse 3}
Uh, steps out the pad with the dufflebag, all the guns I had
Sippin' Granddad, 'bout to make his momma sad
I can't stand him and I don't know him
And he don't even know I'm 'bout to blow him, 'bout to show him
What goes around comes around, he should've thought about it
Now he got to talk to God about it
I mean this, nothing between this four-fifth and the head center
I got a scope with the infa
Boom, boom, coward niggas got to meet they fate
The faggot got "Jason" on his license plate, motherfucker
And he parkin', pass the gat, I'm 'bout to spark him
Lord forgive me, beg your pardon
Hey, playboy!
{Verse 1}
Ah, ah!
I'm sittin' in the crib dreamin' about Lear jets and coupes
The way Salt shoops and how to sell records like Snoop (oops!)
I'm interrupted by a doorbell
3:52 - who the hell is this?
I gets up quick, cocks my shit
Stop the dogs from barkin', then proceed to walkin'
It's a face that I seen before
My nigga Sing, we used to sling on the 16th floor
Check it!
I look deeper; I see blood up on his sneakers
And his fist gripped a chrome four-fifth
So I dip
Nigga, is you creepin' or speakin'?
He tells me C-Rock just got hit up at the Beacon
I opens up the door, pitiful: "Is he in critical?"
Retaliation for this one won't be minimal
'Cause I'm a criminal
Way before the rap shit
Bust the gat shit; Puff won't even know what happened
If it's done smoothly, silencers on the Uzi
Stash in the hooptie, my alibi: any cutie
With a booty that done fuck Big Pop
Head spinnin', reminiscin' 'bout my man C-Rock
{Chorus}
Somebody gotta die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody got to die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
Somebody got to die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
{Verse 2}
Uhh, fillin' clips, he explained our situation
Precisely, so we know exactly what we facin'
"Some kid named Jason
In a Honda station wagon
Was braggin', about how much loot and crack he stackin'
Rock had a grip so they formed up a clique
A small crew, 'round the time I was locked up with you"
"True indeed"
"But yo nigga, let me proceed
Don't fill them clips too high
Give them bullets room to breathe
Damn, where was I? Yeah
Went outta town, blew the fuck up
D-Roc went home
And Jay got stuck the fuck up
Hit him twice, caught him right for the Persian white
Pistol whipped his kids and taped up his wife (niggas is trife)
He figured Rock set 'em up, no question
Wet 'em up no less
Than 50 shots in his direction" (uhh)
"How many shots?"
"Man nigga, I seen mad holes"
"What kinda gats?"
"Hitchlinks, Kochs, and Calicos"
But fuck that
I know where all them niggas rest at
In the buildin' hustlin'
And they don't be strapped
Supreme in black is downstairs, the engine runnin'
Find a bag to put the guns in
And c'mon if you're comin'
{Chorus}
Somebody gotta die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody got to die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
Somebody got to die
If I go, you got to go
Somebody gotta die
Let the gunshots blow
Somebody got to die
Nobody got to know
That I killed yo' ass in the mist, bitch
{Verse 3}
Uh, steps out the pad with the dufflebag, all the guns I had
Sippin' Granddad, 'bout to make his momma sad
I can't stand him and I don't know him
And he don't even know I'm 'bout to blow him, 'bout to show him
What goes around comes around, he should've thought about it
Now he got to talk to God about it
I mean this, nothing between this four-fifth and the head center
I got a scope with the infa
Boom, boom, coward niggas got to meet they fate
The faggot got "Jason" on his license plate, motherfucker
And he parkin', pass the gat, I'm 'bout to spark him
Lord forgive me, beg your pardon
Hey, playboy!