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You Can't Quit Biggie, Baby!
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B.I.G.'s 'Kick in the Door' vs. Queens of the Stone Age's 'You Can't Quit Me, Baby'
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I just make beats as a hobby, so I do it when I have the time and I'm definitely not trying to make any money with this, for now. I like to take samples, but not to put them as the foundation of my beats, but rather to add sounds to instrumentals. I usually intentionally sample stuff that most hip-hop producers usually won't sample, all types of weird and crazy shit. I figure this way my beats can stand out, cuz it's not made with the usual type of sounds. Sampling soul, i'd have to compete with Dilla and 9th Wonder. Sampling jazz, i'd have to compete with Madlib and Premier. And those guys are ridiculously good, so fuck it, I'm gonna dig through the other records and be original!
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #2,054
Peak in subgenre #166
Uploaded
May 28, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.7 MB • 128 kbps • 5:08
Lyrics
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 It's 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 most shady Ain't no tellin where I may be May see me in D.C. at Howard homecomin with my man Capone, 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 befo' Jesus 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 rhymes than "Great Adventure" Chorus 1: Kick in the door, wavin the four-four All you heard was Poppa don't hit me no more Chorus 2: You're solid gold, I'll see you in Hell 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 should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why, lyrically, I'm worshipped, 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 publishin, I punish em I'm surprised you run with them nothin but dicks Tryin 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 click Take trips to Cairo, layin with yo' bitch I know you prayin you was rich, fuckin prick Chorus 1 & 2
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