2 Pac - Hit'em Up Lyrics
So I *****ed your *****You fat mutha-*****a {take money}West sideBad boy killers {take money}You know who the realist isNiggas we bring it to {take money}[ha ha, thats alright]First off, ***** your *****And the click you claimWest side when we rideCome equipped with gameYou claim to be a playaBut, I *****ed your wifeWe bust on bad boysNiggas ***** for lifePlus puffy tryin to see me weakHearts I ripBiggie smalls and junior mafiaSome mark ass *****esWe keep on comingWhile we running for yah jewelsSteady gunningKeep on busting at them foolsYou know the rulesLittle ceasar go ask you homieHow Ill leave yahCut your young ass upSee yah in piecesNow be deceasedLittle kim,Dont ***** with real ass gsQuick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streetsSo ***** peaceIll let them niggas knowIts on for lifeDont let the west sideRide the night [ha ha]Bad boys murdered on wax and kill***** with meAnd get your caps peeledYou know, seeGrab your glocks when you see 2pacCall the cops when you see 2pac, uhhWho shot me,But, your punks didnt finishNow, you bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga, I hit em upCheck this outYou mutha-*****as know what time it isI dont know why Im even on this trackYall niggas aint even on my levelIm going to let my little homiesRide on yah***** made ass bad boys *****es{ahh yo, yo, hold the ***** up}Get out the way yoGet out the way yoBiggie smalls just got droppedLittle move pass the macAnd let me hit em in his backFrank white needs to get spanked rightFor setting up trapsLittle accident murderersAnd I aint never heard of yahPoise less gats attack when Im serving yahSpank the shankYour whole style when I gankGaurd your rankCause Im a slam your ass in a pangPuffy weaker than a *****in blockIm running through niggaAnd Im smoking junior mafiaIn front of yah niggaWith the ready powerTucked in my guessUnder my eddie bowerYour clout petty sourI push packages ever hourI hit em upGrab your glocks when you see 2pacCall the cops when you see 2pac, uhhWho shot me,But, your punks didnt finishNow, you bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga, we hit em upPeep how we do itKeep it realIts penitentary steelThis aint no freestyle battleAll you niggas getting killedWith your mouths openTryin to come up off of meYou and the clouds hopingSmoking dopeIts like a shermineNiggas think they learned to flyBut they burn mutha-*****a you deserve to dieTalking about you getting moneyBut its funny to meAll you niggas living bummyWhile you *****ing with me?Im a self made millioniareThug livin, out of prisonPistols in the air {air} [ha ha]Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couchAnd beg the ***** to let you sleep on the houseNow its all about versaceYou copied my styleFive shots couldnt drop meI took it and smiledNow Im back to set the record straightWith my a-kIm still the thug that you love to hateMutha-*****a Ill hit em upIm from n e w jers.Where plenty of murders occursNo points to comeWe bring drama to all you herdsNow go check the scenerioLittle ceasIll bring you fake gs to yah kneesCopin pleas with these [? ? ? ]Little kim is yahCoked up or doped upGet your little junior whopper click smoked upWhat the *****?Is you stupid?I take money,Crash and mash through brooklynWith my click looting, shooting, and polluting your blockWith fifteen shot,*****ed glock to your knotOutlaw mafia click moving up another knotchAnd your [? pop stars pops? ] and get dropped and moppedAnd all your fake ass east coast propsBrainstormed and lockedYous a b-writerPac style takerIll tell you to face, you aint nothing shit but a fakerSoften the alize with a chaserBout to get murdered for the paperIdi amin approach the scene of the caperLike a loc, with little ceas in a choke [uhh]Toting smoke, we aint no mutha-*****in jokeThug life, niggas better be knownBe approachingIn the wide open, gun smokingNo need for hopingIts a battle lostI gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping offNigga, I hit em upNow you tell me who wonI see them, they run [ha ha]They dont wanna see usWhole junior mafia clickDressing up to be usHow the ***** they gonna be the mob?When we always on out jobWe millionairesKilling aint fairBut somebody got to do itOh yah mobb deep [uhh]You wanna ***** with usYou little young ass mutha-*****asDont one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethingYou *****ing with me, nigga ?You ***** around and catch a siezure or a heart-attackYou better back the ***** upBefore you get smacked the ***** upThis is how we do it on our sideAny of you niggas from new york that want to bring it,Bring it.But we aint singing,We bringing drama***** you and your mother *****ing mama.We gonna kill all you mother *****ers.Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother *****in opinionWell this is how we gon do this:***** mobb deep,***** biggie,***** bad boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother *****in crew.And if you want to be down with bad boy,Then ***** you too.Chino xl, ***** you too.All you mother *****ers,***** you too.(take money, take money)All of yall mother *****ers,***** you, die slow mother *****er.My fo fo (.44 magnum) make sure all yo kids dont grow.You mother *****ers cant be us or see us.We mother *****in thug life riders.West side till we die.Out here in california, niggaWe warned yaWell bomb on you mother *****ers.We do our job.You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother *****in mobAint nuttin but killersAnd the real niggas, all you mother *****ers feel us.Our shit goes tripple and four quadrupleYou niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother *****in beltsYou know how it is and we drop records they feltYou niggas cant feel itWe the realist***** em.We bad boy killas.
