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Rap mogul Sean "Puff Diddy Daddy" Combs has denied yesterday's LA Times report that he had advance knowledge of a 1994 ambush on rival Tupac Shakur that left Tupac with five bullet wounds. Jimmy "Henchman" Rosemond, the music manager that the Times named as the mastermind of the attack, also denied the charges. The Times is standing by its story so far. Below, Puffy's and Rosemond's statements—as well as (BONUS!) the lyrics to two verses of "Who Shot Ya?," the 1994 Biggie Smalls/ Puffy song that was widely believed to be an allusion to the Tupac shooting in question.

The statements:

"This story is beyond ridiculous and is completely false. Neither Biggie nor I had any knowledge of any attack before, during, or after it happened. It is a complete lie to suggest that there was any involvement by Biggie or myself. I am shocked that the Los Angeles Times would be so irresponsible as to publish such a baseless and completely untrue story." - Sean "Diddy" Combs

"In the past 14 years, I have not even been questioned by law enforcement with regard to the assault of Tupac Shakur, let alone brought up on charges. Chuck Phillips, the writer who in the past has falsely claimed that the Notorious Biggie Smalls was in Las Vegas when Tupac was murdered and that Biggie supplied the gun that killed Tupac — only to be proven wrong as Biggie was in New Jersey recuperating from a car accident, has reached a new low by employing fourth-hand information from desperate jailhouse informants along with ancient FBI reports to create this fabrication. I simply ask for all Rap fans and fans of Tupac to analyze this fiction for what it is along with Phillips' motives behind it. I am baffled as to why the LA Times would print this on its website when a simple and fair investigation would reveal that the allegations are false. I am currently consulting with my attorneys about my legal rights regarding this libelous piece of garbage." - Jimmy Rosemond

[via XXL]

Biggie's two verses on "Who Shot Ya?":

Who shot ya?

Seperate the weak from the ob-solete

Hard to creep them brooklyn streets

Its on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef

I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek

Your heartbeat soun like sasquatch feet

Thundering, shaking the concrete

Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot

Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots

Saw me in the drop, three in the corner

Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter

Old school new school need to learn though

I burn baby burn like disco inferno

Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo

Peel more skins than idaho potato

Niggaz know, the lyrics molestin is takin place

Fuckin with b.i.g. it aint safe

I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses

Bumps and bruises, blunts and landcruisers

Big poppa smash fools, bash fools

Niggaz mad because I know that cash rules

Everything around me, two glock nines

Any motherfucker whispering about mines

And im, crooklyns finest

You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this


I seen the light excite all the freaks
Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps
Niggaz wanna creep, got ta watch my back
Think the cognac and indo sack make me slack?
I switches all that, cock-sucker gs up
One false move, get swiss cheesed up
Clip to tec, respect I demand it
Slip and break the, 11th commandment
Thou shalt not fuck with raw c-poppa
Feel a thosand deaths when I drop ya
I feel for you, like chaka khan Im the don
Pussy when I want rolex on the arm
Youll die slow but calm
Recognize my face, so there wont be no mistake
So you know where to tell jake, lame nigga
Brave nigga, turned front page nigga
Puff daddy flips daily
I smoke the blunts he sips on the baileys
On the rocks, tote glocks at christenings
And my cock, in the fire position and...

[via Lyrics Freak]