2pac - Hit 'em Up (Radio Version) lyrics

rate me

I ain't got no friends

Yeah, I'm a do this track

Westside!

MOB, Bad Boy Killa!

Hahahaha, hey fat boy...

First off, touched your chick and the click you claim

Westside when we ride, come equipped with game

You claim to be a playa but I bust your wife

We bust on Bad Boys brothers touch for life

Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak, hearts I rip

Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia is some mark ass tricks

We keep on comin' while we gunnin' for ya' jewels

Steady rushin' while we bustin' at them fools, you know the rules

Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll leave ya

Cut your trick ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased

Little Kim, don't conversate with real G's

Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets, you knew we...

I'll let them suckers know it's on for life

Don't let the westside ride tonight (hahaha)

Bad Boy murdered on Wax and killed

Mess with me and get your caps peeled

You know, See

Grab your glocks when you see Tupac

Call the cops when you see Tupac, Uhh

Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish

Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Sucker, I hit 'em up

Yeah, straight out on the Bad Boy camp

You know how we do it

All my real homeboys in New York keep thuggin'

All the rest of you bustas die slow!

Get out the way yo, Hussein Fatal

You know Biggie Smalls just got dropped

Little Mu' pass the mac and let me hit 'em in his back

Frank White need to get spanked right for settin' traps

Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of ya

Poise less gats attack when I'm servin' ya

Shanke you, spank ya, your whole style when I gank

Guard your rank cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang

Puffy weaker than a block that I'm runnin' through

And I'm smokin Junior Mafia in front of you

With the ready power, tucked in my guess under my Eddie Bower

Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour

We hit 'em up

Grab your glocks when you see Tupac

Call the cops when you see Tupac

Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish

Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Busta, I hit 'em up

Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penintentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle, all you suckers gettin' killed with your

Mouths open

Tryin' to come up off of me you and the clouds hopin', smokin' dope

It's like a Shermine brothers think they learned to fly

But they burn little suckers you deserve to die

Talkin' about you gettin' money but it's funny to me

All you suckers livin' bummy while you messin' with me

I'm a self made millionaire

Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air

Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch

And beg the trick that I 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 A-K

I'm still the thug that you love to hate

Little busta I'll Hit 'Em Up

I'm from N-E-W Jerz where plenty of murder occurs

No points, no commas we bring drama to all you herds

Now go check the scenerio

Little Ceas' I'll bring my enemies to they knees

Coppin' pleas a Degenario

Big Mama is ya coked up or doped up

Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up

Please tell me is you stupid?

I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block

With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot

Outlaw Mafia click movin' up another notch

And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped

And all your fake ass east coast props brainstormed and locked

You'se a B-writer a 'Pac style taker

I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothin' but a faker

Softer than Alizé with a chaser

'bout to get murdered for the paper

EDI Mean approach the scene of the caper

Like a loc, with Prodigy in a choke, huh totin' smoke

Outlawz we ain't no joke, Thug Life cowards better be known

Be approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'

No need for hopin', it's a battle lost

I got em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off

HAHA, I hit 'em up

Empty clips, set trip

You know what time it is

Westside, Outlaw, Thug Life till we die

California love, california thug

You know what time it is

Bad Boy Killa

Mobb Deep Killa

Chino XL Killa

Much love to Smiff N Wesson, Freddie Foxxx, Bunchy The Fat Bastard, Naughty

By Nature and all the real thugs out there

Keep it comin'!

Westsiiide!

You know what time it is

All my real homeboyz in Jerzey, get up!

Outlaw! Thug Life! to die

Westside, Outlaw