Lyrics to What You Gonna Do
It's a Hell Up in Harlem, fuckit, another day another dollar, wake up, to the barking from the Rottweilers Pull the collars, make em sit for the Godfather Then I holler, to Justin my son, run the water for the shower, trust fund scholarship sure to give him power Baby momma call, she pick him up, in about an hour Now free to go, free to blow, with the calicos and the navajos, it's just the way this player knows anything goes, finally caught up with my nigga Sam Sam Picked me up, in the tan Lex Land Wanted breakfast down at Pan Pan's, what's your favorite dish? He ordered cheese eggs and grits, I had the swordfish What is this? Three niggaz dressed in black Roleys on they wrist, feathers in they hat One tapped me on my back, then pointed at my stack Put my finger on the trigger then I asked him, "Whatchu want nigga?" Chorus: Puff Daddy Whatchu gonna do when it's your turn to go Whatchu gonna do when you can't take no mo' You gonna cry like a bitch or take it nice and slow Whatchu gonna do when it's your turn to go (repeat 2X) Verse Two: Puff Daddy I pray to God that I'm dreamin, I know my family wouldn't take it, when the doctor said, "He ain't make it" Mom Dukes cryin, baby mom full of grief How she gonna tell her son his daddy is deceased? Now she got beef with them bitches up the street All because I used to creep, with her girlfriend Sharese She knows, I keep the hoes, from nation, to nation On every radio station, Goodfellas in rotation, uhh That's why niggaz wanna twist my shit, flip my wig Attempt to murder me like Tommy Gills Before they draw, niggaz threw me to the floor Drill holes in my pocket, Sam launch the rocket They wanna rip my arms out the socket, fuckin heathens Love to see a nigga stop breathin I heard a voice sing out, "Ain't you Sean Puffy Combs? Here's your eulogy, meet you at the Crossroads" G'night Bone Chorus Verse Three: Puff Daddy Nothing but clouds and white suits fill my vision Watching my life go down, like Christian Listen hear them bullets rang, shotguns and Mac millis spraying like a hurricane in this war called the terror game And deuce deuces can't stand the pain Little guns ain't got no business in this blizzard they just kibitz, here's five shots to visit, blaka Blowin bullet holes sizes of door knockers Three headed for my chest straight, the other two came a little late, and just barely missed my face I'm tryin to find a steady place between two cars One of us gon' either wind up dead, or behind bars Shit, I'm just tryin to live, so I can raise my kid and own the world, bone all the girlie girls That's when I finally figured out That's that nigga David Arthur, Sharese baby father And I didn't even bother to ask no further questions No more confessions only suggestions I think Sam set me up, cause them bullets squeezed up from the rear, and Sam was the only nigga there Then they all peeled out in the rental, aluminum Sam in the passenger seat, so I'm assumin them niggaz didn't even get to peep Lil' Kim and them, in the backseat, with the heat Clips they feelin em, to the top, shit ain't sweet Once the light turns red, nuff said, that's dead They fled, and they waved, hot lead If I aimed up, I'd be on my deathbed Sucker move, for that they don't get no props Lil' Kim and them, mad they ain't bust no shots We in the block, no Land posters just old posters of gangsta niggaz I see ghosts of gangsta figures I'm tryin to hold my own when they snatched me out the car Took me in the saloon and said, "Puffy, there you are" Them same cats we chased two blocks had new spots washin dishes, I guess for goin out like bitches I smacked em, gave a little speech, to mirth Happiness, cause me and all my peeps got hurt That night, I said a little prayer, me and Justin That's when I heard the bustin, yeah Chorus
Songwriters: JONES, KIMBERLY/MYRICK, NASHIEM/ROSS, ROBERT/COMBS, SEAN PUFFY
Publisher: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing
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Publisher: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing
Powered by LyricFind