Hit Em Up Lyrics
F**k 'em)
I ain't got no motherf**kin' friends
That's why I f**ked yo' b*tch
You fat motherf**ker
(Take money)
West Side
Bad Boy killers
(Take money)
(You know)
You know who the realest is, ni**az
(Take money)
We bring it to you (as I hahahah)
(take money)
[ Lyrics from: http://www.cloverlyrics.com/e1142-2_pac~hit_em_up_lyrics.html ]
[Verse One - Tupac]
First off
F**k your b*tch
And the click you claim
West Side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I f**ked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy
Is ni**az f**ked for life
Plus Puffy tryin' ta see me
Weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A.
Is some mark a** b*tches
We keep on comin'
While we runnin' for ya jewels
Steady gunnin'
Keep on bustin' at the fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar
Go ask ya homie how I leave ya
Cut your young a** up
Leave you in pieces
Now be deceased
Lil' Kim
Don't f**k around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly a** off tha street
So f**k peace
I let them ni**az know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight (hahahah)
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
F**k wit' me and get ya caps peeled
You know ... see ...
[Chorus - Tupac]
Grab ya glocks
When you see Tupac
Call the cops
When you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me
But ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Ni**a, I hit em' up
[Interlude - Tupac]
Check this out
(Take money)
You muthaf**kas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
(Take money)
Ya'll ni**az ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
B*tch made a** bad boy b*tches
Feel it
[Verse Two]
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 need to get spanked right
For settin' tracks
Little accident murderer
And I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisonous gats attack
When I'm servin' ya
Spank the shank
Ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank
Cause I'ma slam you a** in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a f**kin' rocka wanna do, ni**a
And I'll smoke ya Junior Mafia in front of you, ni**a
With the ready power
Tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Ya clout, pretty sour
I put packages every hour
And hit 'em up
[Chorus - Tupac]
Grab ya glocks
When you see Tupac
Call the cops
When you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me
But ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Ni**a, we hit em' up
[Verse Three - Tupac]
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
It's penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you ni**az gettin' killed
With ya mouths open
Tryin' to come up offa me
You in the clouds hoping
Smokin' d*pe it's like a sherm high
Ni**az think they learned to fly
But they burned muthaf**ka
You deserve to die
Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money
But its funny to me
All you ni**az living bummy
While you f**kin' wit' me
I'm a self made millionaire
Thug Livin' out a prison
Pistols in the air (hahaha)
Biggie, remember when I used
To let you sleep on the couch
And beg the b*tch
To let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm 'bout to set the record straight
With my AK
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherf**ker
I hit 'em up
[Verse Four]
I'm from N-E-W Jerz
Where plenty murders occur
No points to calm
We bringin' drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario
Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' please cuz this ain't your area
Lil' Kim
Is you coked up or doped up
Get ya lil' Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the f**k is you stupid
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click lootin'
Shootin' and pollutin' ya block
With 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin' up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake a** east coast props brainstormed and locked
[Verse Five]
Youse a beat biter
A Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face
You ain't shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
'Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper like a loc
With Little Ceasar in a choke hold
Totin' smoke'
We ain't no muthaf**kin' joke
Thug Life ni**az betta be knowin'
We approchin'
In the wide open guns smokin'
No need for hopin' its a battle lost
I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin' off
Ni**a I hit 'em up
[Outro - Tupac]
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (hehehe)
They don't wanna see us
(Take money)
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click
Dressin' up tryin' ta be us
(Take money)
How the f**k they gonna be the mob
When we always on our job
(Take money)
We millionaires
Killin' ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
(Take money)
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (ha)
(Take money)
You wanna f**k with us
You little young a** motherf**kers
(Take money)
Don't one of you ni**az got sickle cell or somethin'
(Take money)
You f**kin' with me ni**a you f**k around
And have a seizure or a heart-attack
(Take money)
You better back the f**k up
'Fore you get smacked the f**k up
That's how we do it on our side
Any of you ni**az from New York
That wanna bring it bring it
But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
F**k you and your motherf**kin' mama
We gonna 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**kin' opinion
Well this 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**kin' 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)
Alla ya'll motherf**kers f**k you
Die slow motherf**ker
My fo'-fo' make sure all ya'll kids don't grow
You motherf**kers can't be us or see us
We the motherf**kin' Thug Life ridahs
West Side till we die
Out here in California, ni**a
We warn ya we'll bomb on you motherf**ckers
We do our job
You think you mob, ni**a
We the motherf**kin' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers and the real ni**az
All you motherf**kers feel us
Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple (echoes)
(Take money)
You ni**az blast as our staff got guns
At they motherf**kers back
You know how it is
When we drop records they feel it
You ni**az can't feel it
We the realest, f**k 'em
We Bad Boy killin'
(Echoes)