2Pac - Hit 'Em Up (altyazı ve şarkı sözleri)
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2Pac - Hit 'Em Up (en) şarkı sözleri
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your
bitch, you fat motherfucker
Take money
West Side, Bad Boy killers
You know who the realest is
We bring it too
Take money, take money
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 trying to see me,
weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.
F.I.A. 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 you
Cut your young ass up, leave
you in pieces, now be deceased
Little Kim, don't fuck around
with real G's
Quick to snatch your 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
the night haha
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Fuck with me and get your caps peeled
You know
See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh
Who shot me, but your punks
didn't finish
Now you about to feel the
wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out, you
motherfuckers know what time
it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little
homies ride on you bitch-made
ass Bad Boy bitches
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Moo' 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 you, shank your whole
style when I gank
Guard your rank cause I'ma
slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fuckin'
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
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
Trying to 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 –
why you fucking with me?
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison,
pistols in the air haha
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'll hit 'em up
I'm from N-E-W Jers' where
plenty of murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring
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
click smoked up
What the fuck, is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash
through Brooklyn
With my click 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
And 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 Alize 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 totin' smoke. We ain't no
motherfucking joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be 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 haha
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique
dressing up trying to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the
mob when we always on our job?
We millionaires
Killing ain't fair, but
somebody got to do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep: 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 catch a
seizure or a heart attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New
York that want to bring it:
But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
Fuck you and your 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 want to 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 sure all y'all
kids don't grow!
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We motherfuckin' Thug Life-
riders, Westside til we die!
Out here in California, nigga,
we warned ya
We'll bomb on you
motherfucker! We do our job!
You think you mob? Nigga, we
the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothing but killers and
the real niggas
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple
You niggas laugh cause our
staff got guns under they
motherfuckin' 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-killers
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