2Pac, Outlawz - Hit 'Em Up (Single Version)

Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is (Take money) niggas, we bring it too That's 'ight, ha-ha (Take money) ha-ha First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim Westside when we ride, come equipped with game You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches We keep on coming while we running for your jewels Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace I'll let them niggas know it's on for life Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh) Nigga, I hit 'em up Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is I don't even know why I'm on this track Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it! Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up! Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh Who shot me? But you 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 as penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high Niggas think they learned to fly But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me I'm a self-made millionaire Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house? Now it's 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 AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate Motherfucker, I hit 'em up! I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up? Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up What the fuck? Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker Softer than Alizé with a chaser About to get murdered for the paper E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke Thug Life, niggas better be knowing We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping, it's a battle lost I got 'em 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, hahahaha They don't wanna see us Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us? You little young-ass motherfuckers Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something? You're fucking with me, nigga You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it But we ain't singing, we bringing drama Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama! We gon' kill all you motherfuckers! Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie! Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too Chino XL, fuck you too All you motherfuckers, fuck you too (Take money, take money) All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow! You motherfuckers can't be us or see us We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die! Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job! You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob! Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt You niggas can't feel it, we the realest Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas