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2Pac
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1
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
2
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
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(Take money) West side, Bad Boy killers (take money)
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You know who the realest is niggaz we bring it to you (take money)
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(Take money)
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First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claim
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Westside when we ride come equipped with game
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You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
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We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
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Plus Puffy tryin' ta see me weak hearts I rip
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Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. Some mark-ass bitches
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We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels
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Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules
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Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
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Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
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Lil' Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
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Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace
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I let them niggaz know it's on for life
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So let the Westside ride tonight
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Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
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Fuck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see
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Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
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Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh
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Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
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Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
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Nigga, I hit em' up
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Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is (take money)
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I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)
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Y'all niggaz ain't even on my level
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I'ma let my little homies ride on you (take money)
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Bitch made-ass bad boy bitches deal with it!
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Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
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Biggie Smalls just got dropped
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Little Moo, pass the mac, and let me hit him in his back
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Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin' traps
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Little accident murderers, and I ain't never heard-a ya
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Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya
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Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank
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Guard your rank, 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint
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Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin through nigga
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And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. In front of you nigga
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With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
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Ya clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up
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Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
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Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh
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Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
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Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
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Nigga, I hit em' up
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Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
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This ain't no freestyle battle
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All you niggaz gettin killed with ya mouths open
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Tryin' to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin'
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Smokin dope it's like a sherm high niggaz think they learned to fly
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But they burn motherfucker, you deserve to die
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Talkin' bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me
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All you niggaz livin' bummy why you fuckin' with me?
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I'm a self made millionaire
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Thug livin' out a prison, pistols in the air
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Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
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And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house
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Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style
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Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled
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Now I'm bout to set the record straight
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With my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate
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Motherfucker, I hit 'em up
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I'm from N-E-W Jers'
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Where plenty of murders occurs
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No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs
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Now go check the scenario
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Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
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Copping pleas in de Janeiro
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Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
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Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
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What the fuck, is you stupid?
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I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
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With my click looting, shooting and polluting your block
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With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
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Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch
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And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
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And all your fake ass East coast props
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Brainstormed and locked
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You's a, beat biter
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A Pac style taker
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I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker
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Softer than Alize with a chaser
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About to get murdered for the paper
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E.D.I Amin approach the scene of the caper
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Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke
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Gun totin' smoke. We ain't no motherfucking joke
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Thug Life, niggas better be known
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Be approaching in the wide open, gun smoking
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No need for hoping, it's a battle lost
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I got em 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
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They don't wanna see us (take money)
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Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. Clique
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Dressing up trying to be us (take money)
100
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)
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We millionaires
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Killing ain't fair but somebody got to do it (take money)
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Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (take money) you wanna fuck with us
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You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)
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Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something (take money)
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You're fucking with me, nigga you fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart attack (take money)
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You better back the fuck up 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, bring it
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But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
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Fuck you and your motherfucking mama
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We're gonna kill all you motherfuckers
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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 motherfucking opinion
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Well this is how we gonna do this
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Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie
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Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfucking crew
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And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too
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Chino XL, fuck you too
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All you motherfuckers, fuck you too (take money, take money)
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All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow, motherfucker
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My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow
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You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
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We motherfuckin' Thug Life-riders, Westside 'til we die
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Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
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We'll bomb on you motherfuckers. We do our job
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You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
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Ain't nothing but killers and the real niggas
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All you motherfuckers feel us
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Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple
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(Take money)
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You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got
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Guns under they motherfuckin' belts
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You know how it is, when we drop records they felt
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You niggas can't feel it, we the realest
136
Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy-killers
2Pac - Hit 'Em Up (Dirty) (Music Video) ...
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