Kick In The Door
Notorious B.I.G. vs Grateful Dead Lyrics
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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
Intake light tokes, tote iron
Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin'
Keep extra clips for extra shit
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 you're marked for death
Should I start your breath or should I let you die
In fear you start to cry, ask why
Lyrically I'm worshiped, 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 paid off my flow, rhyme with my own clique
Take trips to Cairo, laying with your bitch
I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick
When I see ya I'mma
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 N-Y
Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye
Now ya brailling it, snatch that light shit, I'm scaling it
Conscious of ya nonsense, in eighty-eight
Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson
Tote steel like Bronson, "Vigilante"
You wanna get on son, you need to ask me
Ain't no other kings in this rap thing
They siblings, nothing but my children
One shot they disappearin'
It's 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, fragile, my nine milli
Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
And you still recouping, stupid
The opening lyrics to the song "Kick Open Doors" by Notorious B.I.G. and Kanye West criticize those who claimed to be on top but were short-lived and quickly forgotten. The reference to "leprechauns" adds a note of ridicule and suggests that their impact was insignificant, just like these mythical creatures. The rap phenomenon Don-Dadda who is referred to in the lyrics is Notorious B.I.G. himself. He proclaims his dominance and dismisses Papa, another rapper. His flow is swift, as quick as Ramadan, and he brags about his street dominance, advising others to keep a low profile during shootouts. He exhibits great lyrical prowess, dropping unexpected rhymes that sound as spontaneous and fresh as bird droppings. He is harsh on his enemies, threatening to execute them and taking delight in their fear.
The chorus "Kick in the door, waving the four-four, all you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more" is accompanied by a confident swagger that suggests a rapper who knows what he's doing. The chorus is repeated multiple times, as if to drum home the point that Notorious B.I.G. is not to be messed with, and anyone who does will be humiliated and defeated. He boasts of his success and wealth, from selling drugs to performing on stage to having sex with dozens of women. He derides his rivals as pretenders, lacking the authenticity and street cred that he possesses. The song ends on a note of triumph, with Notorious B.I.G. declaring his supremacy and dismissing his enemies as insignificant.
Line by Line Meaning
Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns
You didn't stay successful for long
As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons
I defeat fake gangsters and rappers
Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan
I beat up people quickly and efficiently
Its that rap phenomenon Don-Dadda, fuck Poppa
I'm a great rapper and I'm better than Biggie Smalls
You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White
You should refer to me as Francis M.H. White
Intake light tokes, tote iron
I smoke weed and carry a gun
Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin'
When in a shootout, stay hidden and don't stop shooting
Keep extra clips for extra shit
I always have more ammo than needed
Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap
Who will be next to challenge me as the best rapper?
The mo shady, (Tell em!) Frankie baby
I'm the most dangerous, call me Frankie baby
Ain't no telling where I may be
I could be anywhere, at any moment
May see me in D.C. at Howard Homecoming
You might encounter me at Howard University Homecoming in Washington D.C.
With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking something
I'm hanging out with my friend Capone, having a good time and possibly having sex
You should know my steelo
You should know my style
Went from ten G's for blow to thirty G's a show
I used to sell drugs for 10 thousand and now I get paid 30 thousand per show
To orgies with hoes I never seen before
I'm having sex with women I've never met before
So, Jesus, get off the Notorious Penis, before I squeeze and bust
Stop talking about me sexually or I'll shoot you
If the beef between us, we can settle it
If we have a problem, we can solve it
With the chrome and metal shit
With guns and weapons
I make it hot, like a kettle get
I create excitement, like a boiling kettle
You're delicate, you better get, who sent ya?
You're weak, you better tell me who you're working for
You still pedal shit, I got more rides than Great Adventure
You're still selling drugs, but I have more money and resources than you
On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet
I'm warning you, when I shoot my gun, you'll be in trouble
Look how dark it get when you're marked for death
I'm a dangerous person and you should be afraid
Should I start your breath or should I let you die
Should I kill you now or let you suffer?
In fear you start to cry, ask why
You'll start crying out of fear and confusion
Lyrically I'm worshiped, don't front, the word sick
People love my lyrics, they're amazing
You cursed it, but rehearsed it
You made fun of my lyrics, but clearly listened to them
I drop unexpectedly like bird shit
I release songs without warning, like bird poop
You herbs get stuck quickly for royalties and show money
Other rappers are only focused on making money and become irrelevant quickly
Don't forget the publishing, I punish 'em, I'm done with them
Make sure you get paid for your music and then move on from the situation
Son, I'm surprised you run with them
I'm surprised you associate with those rappers
I think they got cum in them 'cause they nothing but dicks
I think they're weak and afraid, like they don't have real male parts
Trying to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks
They're attempting to be successful like explosives
Mad I smoke hydro, rock diamonds that's sick
They're angry that I smoke marijuana and wear expensive jewelry
Got paid off my flow, rhyme with my own clique
I'm successful because of my unique style and the people I work with
Take trips to Cairo, laying with your bitch
I travel the world and have sex with other peoples' girlfriends
I know you praying you was rich, fucking prick
You wish you had my money, you jerk
This goes out for those that choose to use
Disrespectful views on the King of N-Y
I'm addressing those who are disrespectful to me, the King of New York
Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye
I don't care about your opinion, I'll even throw bleach in your eyes
Now ya brailling it, snatch that light shit, I'm scaling it
You're now blind and helpless, I'll steal your valuables and climb up a ladder
Conscious of ya nonsense, in eighty-eight
I'm aware of your stupidity in 1988
Sold more powder than Johnson and Johnson
I sold more drugs than the company Johnson and Johnson
Tote steel like Bronson, "Vigilante"
I carry a gun like Charles Bronson, a famous vigilante actor
You wanna get on son, you need to ask me
If you want to work with me, you should ask me first
Ain't no other kings in this rap thing
There are no other rappers better than me
They siblings, nothing but my children
Those other rappers are my followers and supporters
One shot they disappearin'
If I shoot them once, they'll disappear
It's ill when MC's used to be on cruddy shit
It's unfortunate that other rappers used to be dirty and dishonest
Took home Ready to Die, listened, studied shit
They learned from my music and studied it
Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue
Now they're only focused on making money and became successful unexpectedly
They light weight, fragile, my nine milli
They're weak and I have a powerful gun
Make the whites shake, that's why my money never funny
I scare people and make them nervous, which is why I'm always making money
And you still recouping, stupid
You're still trying to catch up, you're foolish
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
I barge into a room with my gun and people immediately become afraid of me
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
I'm so intimidating that people beg for mercy before I even do anything
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
My presence alone is enough to make people fear for their lives
Kick in the door, waving the four-four
All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more
I'm a powerful and dangerous person who shouldn't be provoked
Lyrics © DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Written by: CHRISTOPHER E MARTIN, JAY HAWKINS, CHRISTOPHER WALLACE, Christopher Martin
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Travis Davis
This is just PURE FIRE. Perfect mix of jam and hip hop.
Nathan Clave
Absolutely amazing! Being someone who's been to dead shows and spent many adays on shakedown street, you always heard biggie being played as well as other hip-hop artists and beautiful jam music. Yes I do agree Jerry said he didn't agree with rap but as an art I'm sure he had much respect for the talent. It's all music. Beautiful that this is mixed. Signed a lover of old school hip-hop and jam music of all.
James Priest
Keep our tribe alive, the boys covered so many songs, still do. Phil and Bobby are still out there sharing.
Appreciate the mix
Deon Free
I'm starting to live for these classic rock hop hop mash ups...ill
James Marks
This goes so hard.
Jessica Davis
This is fire 🔥
CowGoMoo
please have this on spotify
amigo bailey
Fucking awesome man
michael hinton
Pretty good way better then I would have thought 😉
Jeff Beaucar
Now this is a combo platter