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Hit 'Em Up

Artist:2Pac  Album:Greatest Hits CD 1  Writer:FULA YAFEU A/GOLDE FRANNIE FRANNE/GREENIDGE MALCOLM R  Composer:FULA YAFEU A/GOLDE FRANNIE FRANNE/GREENIDGE MALCOLM R 

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So I f**ked your bi**h You fat mutha-f**ka {Take Money} West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is ni**as we bring it to {Take Money} [ha ha, that's alright] First off, f**k your bi**h And the click you claim West side when we ride Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I f**ked your wife We bust on Bad Boys ni**as f**k for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark a*s bi**hes We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How i'll leave yah Cut your young a*s up See yah in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim Don't f**k with real a*s G's Quick to snatch your ugly a*s off the streets So f**k peace I'll let them ni**as know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night [ha ha] Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill f**k with me And get your caps peeled You know, See Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace ni**a, I hit 'em up Check this out You mutha-f**kas know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track Y'all ni**as ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on yah bi**h made a*s Bad Boys bi**hes Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pa*s the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your a*s in a pang Puffy weaker than a f**kin' block I'm running through ni**a And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah ni**a With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace ni**a, I hit 'em up Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you ni**as getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine ni**as think they learned to fly But they burn mutha f**ka you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you ni**as living bummy While you f**king with me I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} [Ha Ha] Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the bi**h to let you sleep in the house Now its 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 Mutha-f**ka I'll Hit 'Em Up



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Posted By: DIGITALflow
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