Listen to I Shot Ya (Remix) [feat. Fat Joe, Foxy Brown, Keith Murray & The Prodigy] [feat. Fat Joe, Foxy Brown, Keith Murray & The Prodigy] by LL COOL J

I Shot Ya (Remix) [feat. Fat Joe, Foxy Brown, Keith Murray & The Prodigy] [feat. Fat Joe, Foxy Brown, Keith Murray & The Prodigy]

LL COOL J

Hip-Hop/Rap

145,151

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

LL Cool J ft. Prodigy, Keith Murray, Fat Joe, Foxy Brown - I Shot Ya (Remix) [Official Video]
Watch LL Cool J ft. Prodigy, Keith Murray, Fat Joe, Foxy Brown - I Shot Ya (Remix) [Official Video] on YouTube

Featured In

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Credits

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
LL COOL J
LL COOL J
Stimme und Gesang
Fat Joe
Fat Joe
Stimme und Gesang
Foxy Brown
Foxy Brown
Stimme und Gesang
Keith Murray
Keith Murray
Stimme und Gesang
Prodigy
Prodigy
Stimme und Gesang
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Jean Claude Olivier
Jean Claude Olivier
Songwriter:in
James Todd Smith
James Todd Smith
Songwriter:in
James Brown
James Brown
Songwriter:in
Lyn Collins
Lyn Collins
Songwriter:in
Samuel Barnes
Samuel Barnes
Songwriter:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Jean Claude Olivier
Jean Claude Olivier
Produzent:in
Rich Travali
Rich Travali
Mischtechniker:in
J. Nicholas
J. Nicholas
Mischtechniker:in
Samuel Barnes
Samuel Barnes
Produzent:in

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Ha! Yeah, L.O.D.
Keith Murray, Def Squad
[Verse 2]
Mr. Mr. Mr. Mr. Smith
You want a hit?
Gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad
[Verse 3]
Yo, I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents
And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet taking a shit
My style is all that
And a big bag of chips with the dip
Fuck all that sensuous shit!
I represent intellectual violence
And leave your click holier than the Ten Commandments
Like Redman I shift with the ruck
If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up
No need to ask, "Who is he" Son, I get busy
Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many rough cities
I'll have to Norman Bates ya, I love t0 hate ya
'Cause you's a freak by nature
Can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya
Drink your style down straight with no chaser
My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back
As soon as one of you **** try to overreact
The L.O.D. Love Good Confrontation or Vamp
Break your concentration, murder your camp
For the jealous, overzealous, we fellas
Blow the spot like Branford Marsalis
**** coming through and acting wild
Y'all commercial **** better have a Coke and smile
I shot ya!
[Verse 4]
Yo, I conversate with many men
It's time to begin again
Forgot what I already knew
You hear me friend?
Illuminati want my mind, soul and body
Secret society, tryna keep they eye on me
But I'ma stay incogni'
In places they can't find me
Make my moves strategically, the G.O.D.
It's sorta similar but iller than a chess player
I use my thinker, it coincides with my blinker
While you wondered what we saying on the records real
Yeah, you motherfucking right kid
You know the deal
My Mobb is Infamous just like the fucking title read
You get back slapped so hard
Make ya nose bleed
Some kids feeling guilty 'bout the
The truth hurts baby girl, so just face it
But anyway, back on the real side of things
My **** sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings
Not only is it inside the songs that we sing
Everything is real, not just a song that we sing
From my life to the paper
Very accurately
Give you all of my two so maybe you can three
Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E
My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea
How dare you ever in your life walk past me?
Without acknowledging this man as G-O-D
(I shot ya faggot ass)
[Verse 5]
Now who the fuck you think you talking to?
I pay dues, I spray crews
Look, I'm Joey Crack
Motherfuckers be like, "He's bad news"
Running this racket, from New York to Montego
Slaughtering people
Bring a ton of ki's from Puerto Rico
I'd rather be feared than loved
Because the fear lasts longer
These bitch ass **** know we stronger
Than these weaklings, seeking, for respect that ain't there
Knuckleheads beware
There's mad tension in the air
Tommy guns for fun
Shotties for block parties
While fresh lead heats up your insides
Like a fifth of Bacardi
Call the ambulance, this man's wet
Bullets cut him down from the root up just like a Gillette
Razor, which I keep hidden in my oral
Ready to spatter, at any adult
That wants to quarrel
These feds want me for some tax evasion
Mad at the fact that somebody's getting lucci
That's not Caucasian
Bullets be blazing through these streets filled with torture
Joey Crack, aka Keyser Söze
[Verse 6]
Thug **** give they minks to chinks
Tore down, we sip drinks
Rocking minks flashing rings and things
Fronting hardcore deep inside the Jeep, macking
Doing my thing
Fly **** you a Scarface king
Bitches grab ya ta-ta's
Get them **** for they cheddar
Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers
Flossing rocks like the size of Fort Knox
Four carats, the ice rocks
Pussy banging like Versace locs pops
On the creep, open like raw ass cheeks
I'm sexing raw dog without protection
Disease infested, uh
Italiano got the Lucciano
I gets down fucking with Brown Fox
Extra keys to the drop
Boo, I'm Jingling
Baby, I got crazy Dominicans who pay me
To lay low, I play slow
Roll with the Firm
Mafioso crime king pin
It all real ****, what the deal
I shot ya
[Verse 7]
What the fuck?
I thought I conquered the whole world
Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl
But still, **** want to instigate shit
I'll battle any **** in tha rap game quick
Name the spot
I make it hot for you bitches
Female rappers, too
I don't give a fuck, boo!
Word, I'm here to crush all my peers
Rhymes of the month in The Source for twenty years
**** scared
I'm detrimental to your mental state
I use my presidential Rolex to be the bait
**** fight
Glock cocked, ya temple gets fucked
MC's that fuck with LL, they gets bucked
That's real
What's up with that I Shot Ya deal?
Light shit, **** slip
Now how the bullet feel?
New York appeal
In L.A. they gang bang
But if you touch a mic your motherfucking ass hang
That's facts
**** don't receive no type of slack
'Cause if they do
They ass is always running back
[Verse 8]
Not this time, but next time I'ma name names
LL, shitting from on top of the game
I shot ya!
Written by: James Brown, James Todd Smith, Jean Claude Olivier, Lyn Collins

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