Sean Combs: Difference between revisions
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==Controversy== |
==Controversy== |
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2PAC LYRICS |
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He has been criticized for watering down and overly commercializing hip-hop for a mainstream market and as overusing guest appearances by other artists as well as [[Sampling (music)|samples]] and [[Interpolation (music)|interpolations]] of past hits for the majority of his own hit songs. ''[[The Onion]]'' parodied this phenomenon in an article titled "New rap song samples [[Billie Jean]] in its entirety, adds nothing."<ref>[http://www.theonion.com/content/node/32563 The Onion - "New Rap Song Samples 'Billie Jean' In Its Entirety, Adds Nothing"] (Article published September 1997)</ref> Nevertheless, he has been enormously successful, with a current estimated worth of US $346 million and growing, making him the richest person in the [[hip hop]] entertainment business.<ref>[http://www.eurweb.com/story/eur27931.cfm Diddy Declared Richest Person in Hip Hop’]. 9 August 2006.</ref> |
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"Hit 'Em Up" |
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In [[1991]], Combs promoted a concert headlined by [[Heavy D & the Boyz|Heavy D.]] The concert was held at a [[City College of New York]] gymnasium following an [[AIDS]] charity basketball game. The event was massively overcrowded; it was oversold to almost twice the capacity of the gymnasium. In addition, thousands without tickets were outside. In order to keep them from sneaking in, Combs' people shut the only door to a stairwell and put a table behind it, despite the crowd jammed inside pounding on the door and pleading for help. At some point people in the crowd outside broke several glass doors in an attempt to get in; this caused a stampede inside the gymnasium in which nine people died.<ref name="rollingstone">{{cite web | url=http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/puffdaddy/articles/story/8898835/puff_daddy_cometh?source=puffdaddy_rssfeed | title=Puff Daddy Cometh | author=Mikal Gilmore | publisher=Rolling Stone | accessdate=2007-02-19}}</ref> In a [[1999]] ruling, a Court of Claims judge found Combs and Heavy D. 50 percent responsible for the incident, City College bore the rest of the responsibility in part for abandoning security responsibility to Combs, even though they knew the event was oversold. |
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[Tupac] |
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In [[1992]], Combs entered into an agreement with [[Hartford, Connecticut|Hartford]], [[Connecticut]], disc jockey JC “Big Balla” Sledge to start a label in Hartford for the city’s untapped talent, named Hip Hart Beat Records. The pair had creative differences over the usage of talent and eventually split. In a statement to [[Rolling Stone]] Magazine, JC said,” Sean and I remain friends, just not as close as we once were. Our split where it relates to business was because we saw two totally different avenues. I wanted to drive left and go the way of Def Jam and its mainstay of artists and Puffy [Combs] wanted to drive right, business as usual. We all knew what that meant. I don’t have to spell it out…just look at Bad Boys roster and its history. The split was amicable; litigation was an option, but why. Hip Hart Beat Records will one day become a reality. We are close now.” |
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I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends |
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In December [[1999]], Combs was accused of [[assault]]ing [[Steve Stoute]] of [[Interscope Records]]. Stoute was the manager for [[Nas]], whose video for "[[Hate Me Now]]" featured Combs being [[crucifixion|crucified]]. Though Combs had willingly filmed the video scene earlier that year, he demanded that the images be removed. Stoute's refusal led to an argument and Combs' arrest for aggravated assault. This was followed by a yet more negative publicity as The Lox left Bad Boy Records, and a recording session with [[Lil' Kim]] and [[Lil' Cease]], both of Biggie's [[Junior M.A.F.I.A.]] posse, was interrupted by gunfire. |
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Thats why I fucked your bitch |
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You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} |
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West Side |
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Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} |
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You know who the realist is |
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niggas we bring it to {Take Money} |
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(ha ha, that's alright) |
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First off, fuck your bitch |
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In December [[1999]], Combs and his then-girlfriend, [[Jennifer Lopez]], were at [[Club New York]], a midtown Manhattan nightclub, when gunfire broke out. After a police investigation, Combs and fellow rapper [[Shyne]] were arrested for weapons violations and other charges. Combs was indicted after his driver claimed that Combs had tried to bribe him into taking the weapon after the shooting. With bribery charges added to the bill, Combs was being attacked in the tabloids on a near-daily basis. Before the trial was over, Combs found himself in court on numerous civil charges. |
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And the click you claim |
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West side when we ride |
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Come equipped with game |
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You claim to be a playa |
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But, I fucked your wife |
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We bust on Bad Boys |
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niggas fuck for Life |
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Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak |
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Hearts I rip |
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Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia |
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Some mark ass bitches |
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We keep on coming |
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While we running for yah jewels |
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Steady gunning |
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Keep on busting at them fools |
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You know the rules |
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Little Ceasar go ask you homie |
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How i'll leave yah |
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Cut your young ass up |
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See yah in pieces |
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Now be deceased |
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Little Kim, |
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Don't fuck around with real G's |
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Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets |
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So fuck peace |
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I'll let them niggas know |
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It's on for Life |
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Don't let the west side |
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Ride the night (ha ha) |
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Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill |
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fuck with me |
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And get your caps peeled |
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You know, See |
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[Chorus] |
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With a gag order in place, the highly-publicized trial began. His attorney was [[Johnnie Cochran|Johnnie L. Cochran Jr.]]. After the trial was over, Combs was acquitted, but his artist Shyne was convicted on the same charges and sentenced to ten years in prison. |
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Grab your glocks when you see 2pac |
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A talent agency then sued Combs for unfair competition, as did a woman who rented an apartment owned by Combs; she claimed he refused to rid the house of vermin. Combs then launched his own lawsuit against a writer who did not follow through on an alleged agreement to help write Combs' biography. Combs was soon acquitted of all charges relating to the shooting incident, followed almost immediately by a break-up with Lopez. With the media circus over, Combs changed his stage name from "Puff Daddy" to "P. Diddy".<ref>[http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/1249070.stm Puffy becomes P Diddy]. [[BBC News]]. 29 March 2001.</ref> |
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Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh |
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Who shot me, |
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But, your punks didn't finish |
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Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace |
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nigga, I hit 'em up |
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Check this out |
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In February of [[2004]], Combs settled a $3 million lawsuit filed by his former driver, Fenderson, who said he suffered emotional damage after the club shooting four years earlier. Lawyers for both sides, having agreed to keep the settlement terms secret, refused to say what it took to resolve the case. They would say only that the matter was resolved to the satisfaction of all parties. |
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You mutha-fuckas know what time it is |
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I don't know why I'm even on this track |
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Y'all niggas ain't even on my level |
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I'm going to let my little homies |
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Ride on yah |
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bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches |
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{ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up} |
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Get out the way yo |
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In June [[2005]], it was revealed by Ganglandnews.com<ref>Jerry Capeci. 16 June 2005. [http://www.ganglandnews.com/column437.htm P. Diddy & The Gambino Gangster Still Friends After All These Years]</ref> that Combs is allegedly a close friend of reputed [[Gambino]] [[Mafia]] family enforcer, [[Andrew Campos]]. |
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Get out the way yo |
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Biggie Smalls just got dropped |
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Little move pa*s the mac |
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And let me hit 'em in his back |
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Frank White needs to get spanked right |
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For setting up traps |
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Little accident murderers |
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And I ain't never heard of yah |
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Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah |
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Spank the shank |
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Your whole style when I gank |
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Guard your rank |
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Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang |
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Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block |
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I'm running through nigga |
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And I'm smoking Junior Mafia |
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In front of yah nigga |
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With the ready power |
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Tucked in my Guess |
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Under my Eddie Bower |
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Your clout petty sour |
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I push packages ever hour |
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I hit 'em up |
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[Chorus] |
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Grab your glocks when you see 2pac |
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Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh |
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Who shot me, |
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But, your punks didn't finish |
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Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace |
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nigga, We hit 'em up |
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Peep how we do it |
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Keep it real |
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Its penitentiary steel |
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This ain't no freestyle battle |
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All you niggas getting killed |
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With your mouths open |
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Tryin' to come up off of me |
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You and the clouds hoping |
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Smoking dope |
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It's like a Shermine |
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niggas think they learned to fly |
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But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die |
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Talking about you Getting Money |
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But its funny to me |
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All you niggas living bummy |
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While you fucking with me? |
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I'm a self made Millionaire |
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Thug livin', out of prison |
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Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) |
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Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch |
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And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house |
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Now its all about versace |
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You copied my style |
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Five shots couldn't drop me |
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I took it and smiled |
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Now I'm back to set the record straight |
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With my A-K |
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I'm still the thug that you love to hate |
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Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up |
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I'm from N E W Jers. |
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Where plenty of murder occurs |
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No points to come |
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We bring drama to all you herds |
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Now go check the scenerio |
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Little Ceas' |
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I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees |
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Copin' pleas with these |
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Little Kim is yah |
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Coked up or doped up |
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Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up |
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What the fuck? |
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Is you stupid? |
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I take money, |
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crash and mash through Brooklyn |
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With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block |
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With fifteen shot, |
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Cocked glock to your knot |
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Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch |
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And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped |
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And all your fake ass east coast props |
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Brainstormed and locked |
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You'se a beat biter |
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Pac style taker |
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I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker |
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So fill the Alize with a chaser |
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'bout to get murdered for the paper |
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E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper |
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Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) |
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Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke |
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Thug Life, niggas better be known |
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Be approaching |
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In the wide open, gun smoking |
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No need for hoping |
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It's a battle lost |
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I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off |
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nigga, I hit 'em up |
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Now you tell me who won |
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I see them, they run (ha ha) |
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They don't wanna see us |
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Whole Junior Mafia click |
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Dressing up to be us |
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How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? |
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When we always on out job |
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We millionaire's |
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Killing ain't fair |
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But somebody got to do it |
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Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh) |
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You wanna fuck with us |
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You Little young ass mutha-fuckas |
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Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something |
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You fucking with me, nigga ? |
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You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack |
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You better back the fuck up |
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Before you get smacked the fuck up |
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This is how we do it on our side |
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Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, |
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Bring it. |
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But we ain't singing, |
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We bringing drama |
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fuck you and your mother fucking mama. |
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We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. |
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Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. |
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Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion |
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Well this is how we gon' do this: |
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fuck Mobb Deep, |
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fuck Biggie, |
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fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. |
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And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, |
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Then fuck you too. |
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Chino XL, fuck you too. |
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All you mother fuckers, |
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fuck you too. |
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(take money, take money) |
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All of y'all mother fuckers, |
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fuck you, die slow mother fucker. |
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My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. |
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You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. |
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We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. |
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West Side till' we die. |
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Out here in California, nigga |
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We warned ya' |
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We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. |
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We do our job. |
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You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob |
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Ain't nuttin' but killers |
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And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. |
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Our shit goes triple and four quadruple |
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You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts |
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You know how it is and we drop records they felt |
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You niggas can't feel it |
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We the realist |
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fuck 'em. |
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We Bad Boy killas. |
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==Puff Daddy in the 2000s== |
==Puff Daddy in the 2000s== |
Revision as of 01:50, 9 June 2007
For other uses, including Richard 'Diddy' Dearlove, see Diddy (disambiguation).
Sean Combs |
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Sean John Combs (born November 4, 1969[1]) is an American record producer, mogul and rapper.
As of October 2006, his nickname and recording name is Diddy (adopted in August 2005); previously, he had been known as Puff Daddy and later as P. Diddy (Puff or Puffy being often used as nicknames, but never as recording names). He is still called P. Diddy in New Zealand and the UK, the latter after a legal battle with another artist, Richard "Diddy" Dearlove.[2]
Combs presides over a media empire that includes the record label Bad Boy Records, the clothing lines Sean John and Sean by Sean Combs, a movie production company, and two restaurants. He has taken the roles of recording executive, performer, producer of MTV's "Making the Band," writer, arranger, clothing designer, and Broadway actor. Diddy is the richest hip-hop entertainer as of 2007, having a net worth estimate of US $346 Million.[3]
Early years
2PAC LYRICS
"Hit 'Em Up"
[Tupac]
I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends Thats why I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to {Take Money} (ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch And the click you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How i'll leave yah Cut your young ass up See yah in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, See
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out You mutha-fuckas know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on yah bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up}
Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pa*s the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah nigga With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine niggas think they learned to fly But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now its all about versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked
You'se a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won I see them, they run (ha ha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia click Dressing up to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh) You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass mutha-fuckas Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something You fucking with me, nigga ? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama fuck you and your mother fucking mama. We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion Well this is how we gon' do this: fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, fuck you too. (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow mother fucker. My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob Ain't nuttin' but killers And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts You know how it is and we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it We the realist fuck 'em. We Bad Boy killas.
Establishing Bad Boy
2PAC LYRICS
"Hit 'Em Up"
[Tupac]
I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends Thats why I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to {Take Money} (ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch And the click you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How i'll leave yah Cut your young ass up See yah in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, See
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out You mutha-fuckas know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on yah bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up}
Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pa*s the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah nigga With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine niggas think they learned to fly But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now its all about versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked
You'se a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won I see them, they run (ha ha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia click Dressing up to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh) You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass mutha-fuckas Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something You fucking with me, nigga ? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama fuck you and your mother fucking mama. We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion Well this is how we gon' do this: fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, fuck you too. (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow mother fucker. My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob Ain't nuttin' but killers And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts You know how it is and we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it We the realist fuck 'em. We Bad Boy killas.
Performing career
2PAC LYRICS
"Hit 'Em Up"
[Tupac]
I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends Thats why I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to {Take Money} (ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch And the click you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How i'll leave yah Cut your young ass up See yah in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, See
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out You mutha-fuckas know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on yah bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up}
Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pa*s the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah nigga With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine niggas think they learned to fly But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now its all about versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked
You'se a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won I see them, they run (ha ha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia click Dressing up to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh) You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass mutha-fuckas Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something You fucking with me, nigga ? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama fuck you and your mother fucking mama. We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion Well this is how we gon' do this: fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, fuck you too. (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow mother fucker. My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob Ain't nuttin' but killers And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts You know how it is and we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it We the realist fuck 'em. We Bad Boy killas.
Controversy
2PAC LYRICS
"Hit 'Em Up"
[Tupac]
I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends Thats why I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to {Take Money} (ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch And the click you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How i'll leave yah Cut your young ass up See yah in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, See
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out You mutha-fuckas know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on yah bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up}
Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pa*s the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah nigga With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine niggas think they learned to fly But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house Now its all about versace You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked
You'se a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won I see them, they run (ha ha) They don't wanna see us Whole Junior Mafia click Dressing up to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh) You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass mutha-fuckas Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something You fucking with me, nigga ? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama fuck you and your mother fucking mama. We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion Well this is how we gon' do this: fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, fuck you too. (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow mother fucker. My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob Ain't nuttin' but killers And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts You know how it is and we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it We the realist fuck 'em. We Bad Boy killas.
Puff Daddy in the 2000s
Combs tried to reinvent his image, but was once again in court facing assault charges from a Michigan television host, Dr. Roger Mills, and then was arrested for driving on a suspended license in Florida. In spite of continuing legal problems, Combs decided that he was going to release a gospel album, Thank You, but it was never released. After yet more legal problems stemming from an accusation of reckless driving by the Miami police, Combs began working with a series of unusual (for him) artists. A collaboration with David Bowie appeared on the soundtrack to Training Day, while Combs began working with Britney Spears and N*SYNC. He signed California-based pop girl group Dream to his Bad Boy Records label. He was also an opening act for N*SYNC on their Spring 2002 Celebrity Tour.
Later in 2002, he made his own reality show on MTV called Making the Band 2, the sequel to the first Making the Band. In it, contestants compete to be in a new group on Bad Boy Records. The six finalists have to come up with their name, CD and video (see Da Band). The group was maligned by comics and critics, including a well known skit that appeared on Chappelle's Show, and was dissolved by Diddy at the end of the series. Diddy went on to later work on creating an all-girl group called Danity Kane in the third version of Making The Band.
In 2003, Combs ran in the New York City Marathon and raised $2,000,000 for the educational system for the children of New York. He appeared on the March 10, 2004 episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show to discuss the marathon. He finished the marathon in four hours and eighteen minutes.
In 2004, Combs headed the campaign "Vote or Die" for the 2004 Presidential Election. The "Vote or Die" slogan was mocked by both The Daily Show and South Park as being too simplistic and encouraging young people to vote without knowing the issues. In a South Park episode entitled "Douche and Turd", P. Diddy and his associates chased one of the main characters around with weapons, literally threatening to kill him if he wouldn't vote in his school election.[4] At the time there were also rumors that Combs didn't even vote in the election, and that like Paris Hilton, another supporter of the campaign, wasn't even registered.
In a 2005 interview with AndPOP, Combs explained that he was developing a new line of men's suits.
On August 16, 2005, Combs appeared on the Today Show and announced that he was altering his stage name yet again, dropping the "P." and referring to himself simply as "Diddy," saying that "the P was getting between me and my fans." However this name change to Diddy upset Richard "Diddy" Dearlove, a London based musical artist & DJ.[5] Richard Dearlove lodged paperwork on Wednesday 16th November 2005 at 10:30 am in the Royal Court of Justice, London to start injunctive proceedings, a case which he won when an out of court settlement of £110,000 was agreed. As a result, Combs will no longer be able to use the name Diddy in the UK.[2][6]
As of 2005, Combs sold his Bad Boy Records to the Warner Music Group. Tensions still existed between Diddy and former Warners CEOs Lyor Cohen and Kevin Liles (both formerly of Def Jam), but they arranged for his imprint to be a part of the company. He still remains CEO of Bad Boy Records.[7]
He later hosted the 2005 MTV Video Music Awards, and was named one of the 100 Most Influential People of 2005 by Time magazine.[8] He even earned a mention in the world of country music. The subject of Play Something Country by Brooks & Dunn and Sean Okundaye says he "didn't come to hear P Diddy" which he rhymes with "something bumpin' from the city."
Diddy released the album Press Play on October 17, 2006, his first album in 4 years. The album included a variety of popular and contemporary guest appearances including Christina Aguilera, Keyshia Cole, Mario Winans (signed to his label 'Bad Boy Records'), Nas, Will.i.am (Black Eyed Peas), Mary J. Blige, Nicole Scherzinger (of the Pussycat Dolls), Jamie Foxx, Big Boi (Outkast), Ciara, and Brandy. The album reached number one on its first week in the charts.
In the February 2007 issue of Blender Magazine Diddy dishes about his wardrobe. He describes his style in three words. "Swagger. Timeless. Diverse."
Other work
Combs has opened his own clothing range named 'Sean John'. Combs is one of the wealthiest people in the American entertainment industry. In 2002, he was featured on Fortune magazine's "40 Richest People Under 40" list and was placed number one in the list of the top ten richest people in hip-hop. He has donated undisclosed amounts to the Patricia Kirby Foundation, an organization that battles teenage bulimia and other eating disorders.
In addition to his work as a performer and producer, Combs entered the fashion industry. His clothing line, Sean John, has been nominated for the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) Award for Menswear Designer of the Year every year since 2000. Sean John received criticism, however, for using fur in his designs. Controversy also followed when it was discovered that factories producing the clothing in Honduras were violating Honduran labor law.[9] Charles Kernaghan of the National Labor Committee, who first exposed the factory, is quoted in the New York Times as saying, "Sean Combs obviously has a lot of clout, he can literally do a lot overnight to help these workers."[9] He did and conditions at the factory improved dramatically. The case is often cited as an example of how concerned celebrities can contribute to ending sweatshop abuses.
In 2006 mayor Richard M. Daley awarded Combs with a pair of cufflinks to commemorate the inauguration of an annual October 13 "Diddy Day" in the city of Chicago.[10] Combs received the honor as reward for certain "charitable work" at the Chicago City Hall. This has been seen by some to be an election-month stunt by the mayor.
Combs also owns two upscale restaurants called "Justin's" (named after his son) with locations in New York and in Atlanta. He is the designer of the green Dallas Mavericks alternate jersey.
He appeared as a drug dealer in Made, and he played the role of Walter Lee Younger in the critically acclaimed 2004 Broadway revival of A Raisin in the Sun. Combs says he loved appearing in the show and being given the opportunity to perform at the theater. He attracted huge crowds for his performance in the New York production, received mixed reviews, and admits he is desperate to pursue an acting career. He also starred with Halle Berry and Billy Bob Thornton in the film Monster's Ball.
He also starred in Carlito's Way: Rise to Power.
Personal life
On Thursday December 21, 2006, Combs' girlfriend, Kim Porter, who also has a son with Al B Sure, delivered twin girls, one at 7:56 am weighing 5lbs and the other at 7:58am weighing 5lbs 4oz. Their names are D'Lila Star and Jessie James Combs.[11][12] Diddy announced the birth on his myspace. The couple have a son, Christian, 9. Sean also has another son, Justin, 13, from his previous relationship with stylist Misa Hylton-Brim.
Combs is a football fan. He arranged time to meet the Manchester United F.C. team in Copenhagen prior to MTV European Music Awards.[13] Combs favorite club is Arsenal F.C.: "I'm a loyal guy. There's a couple of other football teams tried to recruit me but I'm staying true to Arsenal. Arsenal fans have inducted me as an honorary official Arsenal member."[14]
Combs was given the key to Chicago on October 13, 2006.[15]
Discography
Albums
- No Way Out (Puff Daddy & the Family) (1997) [7x RIAA Certified Platinum][10 Million Worldwide]
- Forever (as Puff Daddy) (1999) 1x Platinum [RIAA Certified Platinum]
- The Saga Continues... (P. Diddy & the Bad Boy Family) (2001) 1x Platinum [RIAA Certified Platinum]
- We Invented The Remix Vol. 1 (as P. Diddy) (2002) 1x Platinum [RIAA Certified Platinum]
- Press Play (as Diddy) (2006) Platinum [RIAA Certified Gold]
- Press Play Remix Album (as Diddy) (2007)
- We Invented The Remix Vol. 2 (as Diddy) (2008)
Grammy awards
- Career Wins: 3
- Career Nominations: 9
Diddy's Grammy History[16] | ||||
Year | Category | Genre | Song | Result |
---|---|---|---|---|
1998 | Best New Artist | General | N/A | Nominated |
1998 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Can't Nobody Hold Me Down" | Nominated |
1998 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Mo Money Mo Problems" | Nominated |
1998 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "I'll Be Missing You" | Won |
1998 | Best Rap Album | Rap | No Way Out | Won |
2000 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Satisfy You" | Nominated |
2002 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Bad Boy For Life" | Nominated |
2003 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Pass the Courvoisier (Part 2)" | Nominated |
2004 | Best Rap Performance By a Duo or Group | Rap | "Shake Ya Tailfeather" | Won |
References
- ^ DOB 11/4/69 according to a 1999 Duty Captain's Report.Published January 17, 2001 by CourtTV.com. Accessed 2006-10-29.
- ^ a b Gay DJ triumphs in battle for Diddy name rights. September 13, 2006.
- ^ 2006 Richest In HipHop
- ^ [1]
- ^ See Diddyland.com
- ^ Rap star loses Diddy name rights. BBC News. 10 September 2006.
- ^ Tamara Conniff and Bill Werde. (October 4, 2006). Diddy: The Saga Continues. Billboard.com. Accessed 2006-11-22.
- ^ "Sean (Diddy) Combs". Time Magazine. April 30, 2006. Retrieved 2007-03-02.
- ^ a b Steven Greenhouse. 28 October 2003. A Hip-Hop Star's Fashion Line Is Tagged With a Sweatshop. Available here as pdf.
- ^ As reported in the Chicago Tribune on Oct 13, 2006
- ^ http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,1562190,00.html
- ^ http://www.justjared.com/2007/01/31/diddy-twins/
- ^ Rap Star Visits Reds. ManUtd.com. (1/11/2006). Accessed 2006-11-08.
- ^ Gunners add Diddy to Arsenal of fans ITV.com. (Nov 9, 2006). Accessed 2006-11-09.
- ^ Chicago Mayor Gives Diddy Key to City. Channel3000.com. October 16, 2006. Accessed 2006-10-29.
- ^ Grammy Awards for: 1998, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2004.
External links
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fa/Wikiquote-logo.svg/34px-Wikiquote-logo.svg.png)
- Diddy Official website
- Bad Boy Online, Combs' company's site
- Diddy Fansite website
- Press Play review on AbsolutePunk.net
- MTV: Diddy
- Template:MySpace
- Sean 'P. Diddy' Combs at IMDb
- YouTube page
- Sean 'P. Diddy' Combs biography
- Sean 'P Diddy' Combs Biography by Fresh Thinking Business
- Diddy and Kanye West's Birthday Party Movie 2006
- Sean Combs In The News Mainly Business Related Stories
- Court TV coverage of Sean Combs weapons and bribery charges
- 1969 births
- African American musicians
- American dance musicians
- American rappers
- American Roman Catholics
- American fashion designers
- American socialites
- Bad Boy Records artists
- Gangster Disciples
- Grammy Award winners
- Hip hop record producers
- Hollywood Walk of Fame
- Howard University alumni
- Living people
- Participants in American reality television series
- People from New York City
- People from Westchester County, New York
- Roman Catholics
- Warner Music Group artists
- New York City musicians