I Shot Ya (remix) Lyrics - Fat Joe

Verse One: Keith Murray 

Haaah! (wooooooo!) 

Yeah, (hah, hah, hah, hah) L.O.D. 

Keith Murray, Def Squad 

Mista, Mista, Mista, Mista Smith 

You wanna hit? (You wanna hit?) 

Uhh, gimme an hour plus a pen and a pad 

Yo... I'm here to make a dollar out of fifteen cents 

And let my balls hang like I'm on a toilet takin a shit 

My style is all that, and a big bag of chips wit 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 tha ruck 

If ya if was a spliff we'd be all fucked up [Word up!] 

No need to ask you who is he, Son I get busy 

Scuff my Timbs on the boulevard of many ruff cities [Chicago, LA, any of them] 

I'll have to Norman Bate ya I love ta hate ya 

Cause youse a freak by nature 

Can't wait to face ya, mutilate ya 

Drink your style down straight wit no chaser [Word up!] 

My verbal combat's like a mini-Mac to your back 

As soon as one of you niggaz try to over react [BLAOW!] 

Tha L.O.D. love good confrontation or vamp [Word up!] 

Break your concentration, murder your camp 

For tha jealous, overzealous, we fellaz 

Blow the the spot like Branford Marsalis 

Niggaz comin through and actin wild 

Y'all commercial niggaz better have a Coke and a smile 

I SHOT YA! 

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Verse Two: Prodigy 

Yo, I conversate wit many men, it's time to begin again 

Forgot what I already knew, aiyyo you hear me friend? 

Illuminati want my mind, soul, and my body 

Secret society, tryin to keep they eye on me 

But I'm 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 sayin on the records real 

Yeah you motherfuckin right kid you know the deal 

My Mobb is Infamous just like the fuckin title read 

You get back slapped so hard make ya nose bleed 

Some ---- kids feeling guilty bout the ---- 

But you first baby girl so just face it (awright) 

But anyway, back on the real side of things 

My niggaz sling cracks and wear fat diamond rings 

Not only is it inside the songs that we sing (kid) 

Everything is real not just a song that we sing (word up, it's real) 

From my life to the paper (what), very accurately 

Give you all of my two so maybe you can three 

Prodigy will forever will S-H-I-N-E (shine baby, just shine) 

My shit attract millions like the moon attract the sea 

How dare you ever in your life walk past me 

Without acknowledgin this man as G-O-D 

I shot ya faggot ass 

Photos 

Verse Three: Fat Joe 

Now who the fuck you think you talkin to, I pay dues I spray crews 

Look I'm Joey Crack, motherfuckers be like he's bad news 

Runnin this racket, from New York to Montego 

Slaughterin people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico 

I'd rather be feared than loved because the fear lasts longer 

These bitch ass niggaz know we stronger 

Than these weaklings, seekin, 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 ad out, that wants to quarrel 

These feds want me for some tax evasion 

Now that the fact that somebody's gettin lucci that's not caucasian 

Bullets be blazin through these streets filled with torture [what the deal pop] 

Joey Crack, a.k.a. Kaiser Ceaser 

Verse Four: Foxxy Brown 

Thug niggaz give they minks to chinks 

To' down we sip drinks rockin minks, flashin rings and things [what the deal] 

Frontin hardcore deep inside the Jeep, mackin 

Doin my thing fly nigga you a Scarface king 

Bitches grab ya ta-ta's, get them niggaz for they chedda 

Fuck it, Gucci sweaters and Armani leathers 

Flossin rocks like the size of Fort Knox 

Four carats, the ice rocks, pussy bangin like Versace locs pops [what the deal] 

Want ta the creep, on the light raw ass cheeks 

I'm sexin raw dog without protection, diseaese infested 

Uh, Italiano got the Lucciano 

I gets down fuckin 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 tha Firm, Mafiaso crime king pin 

It all real nigga what tha deal 

I shot ya! 

Verse Five: LL Cool J 

What the fuck? I thought I conquered the whole world 

Crushed Moe Dee, Hammer, and Ice-T's girl 

But still, niggaz want to instigate shit 

I'll battle any nigga in tha rap game quick 

Name the spot, I make it hot for ya 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 

Niggaz scared, I'm detrimental to your mental state 

I use my presedential Rolex to be debate 

Niggaz 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, niggaz slip now how the bullet feel? 

New York appeal, in L.A. they gang bang 

But if you touch a mic your motherfuckin ass hang 

That's facts, niggaz don't recieve no type of slack 

Cause if they do, they ass is always runnin back 

Not this time, but next time I'ma name names 

LL, shittin from on top of the game 

I SHOT YA!