Outlawz、2Pac–Hit Em Up(Explicit)

Written by:Outlawz、2Pac

That's why I f**ked you b**ch

You fat motherf**ker

Take money

West Side

Bad Boy killas

You know who the realest is

Niggas we bring it too

Take money

Ha-ha

First off f**k your b**ch and the clique you claim

Westside when we ride come equipped with game

You claim to be a player but f**ked your wife

We bust on Bad Boys niggas f**ked for life

Plus Puffy tryna see me weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A.

Is some mark-ass b**ches

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 f**k around with real G's

Quick to snatch you ugly ass off the streets

So f**k 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

F**k with me and get you caps peeled

You know

See grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac

Who shot me

But you punks didn't finish

Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga

I hit'em up

Check this out

You motherf**kers 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'm a let my lil' homies

Ride on you b**ch-made ass Bad Boy b**ches

Feel it

Get out the way get out the way

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'm a slam your ass in the paint

Puffy weaker than the f**king 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

Who shot me

But you punks didn't finish

Now you about 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 ** it's like a sherm high

Niggas think they learned to fly

But they burn motherf**ker

You deserve to die

Talking about you getting money but it's funny to me

All you niggas living bummy while you f**king with me

I'm a self-made millionaire

Thug living

Out of prison pistols in the air

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

And beg a ***** 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

Motherf**ker 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 **d up

Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up

What the f**k

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 sh*t

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 mother****ing 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 f**k is bopping off

Nigga I hit'em up

Now you tell me who won

I see them they run

They don't wanna see us

Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us

How the f**k 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

You wanna f**k with us

You little young ass motherf**kers

Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something

You're f**king with me nigga

You f**k around and have a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the f**k up 'fore you

Get smacked the f**k 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

F**k you and yo' motherf**king mama

We gon' kill all you motherf**kers

Now when I came out

I told you it was just about Biggie

Then everybody had to open

Their mouth with a motherf**king opinion

Well this is how we gonna do this

F**k Mobb Deep F**k Biggie

F**k Bad Boy as a staff record label

And as a motherf**king crew

And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy Then f**k you too

Chino XL f**k you too

All you motherf**kers f**k you too

Take money take money

All of you all motherf**kers f**k you

Die slow motherf**ker

My 44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow

You motherf**kers can't be us or see us

We motherf**king Thug Life ridas

Westside 'til we die

Out here in California nigga we warned

We'll bomb on you motherf**kers

We do our job

You think you mob Nigga

We the motherf**king mob

Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas

all you motherf**kers feel us

Our s**t goes triple and four quadruple

You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns

In they mother****ers belts

You know how it is

When we drop records they felt

You niggas can't feel it we the realest

F**k 'em

We Bad Boy killas