Teledysk
Teledysk
Kredyty
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Busta Rhymes
Vocals
M.O.P.
Vocals
P. Diddy
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dorsey Wesley
Songwriter
Drayton Goss
Songwriter
Jamel Fisher
Songwriter
Mark Curry
Songwriter
Robert Ross
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Paul Logus
Mixing Engineer
Megahertz Music Group
Producer
Rob Paustain
Recording Engineer
Tekst Utworu
Oww!
Stick 'em up!
As we proceed (Stick 'em up, motherfuckers, yeah)
To give you what you need (Put your hands in the air, come on)
It's star time (We still here)
Ring the fire alarm, come on (It's star time)
Ring the fire alarm, come on (Bad Boy, baby—we lifers, baby)
Ring the fire alarm, come on (For life, yeah)
Bad Boy (Yeah, come on)
M.O.P. (Come on, motherfuckers)
Busta Rhymes (Come on)
Haha! Yeah, yeah, come on
I'm the definition of... Fuck it, y'all already know (Yeah)
I stack heavy dough (Uh-huh), sell out every show (Come on)
It'll never die—we live
And we gon' stay big-time 'til it's time to see Big (B.I.G. forever)
Get a grip – Bad Boy never slip (Come on)
We runnin' strips while y'all runnin' lips (Yeah)
Haters wanna stop my loot
They don't want me wearin' Sean John, they want me wearin' lawsuits
P. D. increase the heat in your streets
Keep your tapes on rewind (Come on), CDs on repeat (Uh-huh)
My mental more older (What), jewelry more colder (Yeah)
Got it locked like it's '97 all over
You know what I came to do (Ugh) – Change the rules
Even when I stand still (Ugh), I'm makin' moves
I paid my dues
As soon as I stepped in –
P. Diddy, a.k.a. "News at Eleven," bitch (Leading story, motherfuckers)
Throw your hands up in the air now (Haha)
We're gonna hit you with the heat (Bad Boy)
For the streets (Throw your hands up)
Throw your hands up in the air now
We won't stop (We lifers, baby! Bad Boy!)
It's Bad Boy for life
Throw your hands up in the air now (Bad, Bad Boy, throw hands up)
We're gonna hit you with the heat (Bad, Bad Boy, throw your hands up)
For the streets
Throw your hands up in the air now (Bad, Bad Boy)
We won't stop (Without further ado)
It's Bad Boy For Life (It's my pleasure to introduce to you)
M! (Yeah!) O! (Yeah!) P! (Yeah!)
Come on! (Yo!)
Catch me walking on the wildest side of your block, I bang mine (Yeah)
**** showing me hood love, throwing up gang signs
(Ayo, is that who I think it is?) You see it
Brooklyn military (Oh!) remains in blaze
And respect all hoods 'cause the globe is a ghetto
But **** start switchin' like hoes in stilettos
(Yep, that's Lil' Fame and them!)
"Remember them **** from the Hill, up in Brownsville?"
(Uh-huh) We still bangin' 'em! Ahh!
Sound the alarm
It's the First Family, and we're back to drop bombs
Boom! (Napalm) Dupe those jesters
It's the world's (World's) famous (Famous) firearm caressers
We vow (Vow) to keep the homies proud in the street
To make our music loud and stomp over beats, like—
(Ba ba bom bom ba bom bom!) There you go!
Yeah (Yeah!) Yeah! We ain't goin nowhere (Oww!)
Throw your hands up in the air now
We're gonna hit you with the heat (Bad Boy)
For the streets (Yeah)
Throw your hands up in the air now
We won't stop (We lifers, baby)
It's Bad Boy for life
Throw your hands up in the air now (Bad, Bad Boy, come on)
We're gonna hit you with the heat (Bad, Bad Boy, throw your hands up)
For the streets (Yeah, come on)
Throw your hands up in the air now (Bad Bad, Boy)
We won't stop (Woop, woop)
It's Bad Boy for life (Woop, woop)
Yeah! Yeah!
Come on! Yeah! Busta!
****, put a hundred grand up (Grand up!) – stand up
Before I stick your bitch-ass, you better put your hands up (Hands up!)
(Come on, come on, come on, come on...)
Hate if you want, and front like you ain't wit' it, ****
I'll bust your motherfuckin' head with a skillet, ****
More rugged-**** heat for the track (Hunh)
I'm like a pick-up truck with broken concrete in the back (Ha!)
Now, let me add a couple G's to the stack
I know we got you dumbin'
How we put this together and the world ain't even see it coming (Ha)
Back the firearm and pop your car
****, watch me shatter (Huh) your windshield with a rock guitar (Ha)
We be them zero-tolerance ****—I'll turn on your ass, bitch (Ha)
And melt you **** like a fire, burnin' yo' ass, bitch
Relax, bitch! (Come on!) The fact is we trifle with heat (Ha, huh)
Disciples with lyrics that rifle the street (Ha)
I'm sayin' – (Yes, we come to put the shit down)
Soldiers get up, faggot **** need to sit down—one!
Throw your hands up in the air now
We're gonna hit you with the heat
For the streets
Throw your hands up in the air now
We won't stop
It's Bad Boy For Life
Throw your hands up in the air now
We're gonna hit you with the heat
For the streets
Throw your hands up in the air now
We won't stop
It's Bad Boy For Life
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy
M.O.P
Busta Rhymes
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy
M.O.P. (Brooklyn)
Busta Rhymes
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy (Come on)
M.O.P
Busta Rhymes
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy (Come on)
M.O.P
Busta Rhymes
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy
M.O.P
Busta Rhymes
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Ring the fire alarm
Bad Boy
Written by: Dorsey Wesley, Drayton Goss, Jamel Fisher, Mark Curry, Robert Ross


