Outlawz 2pac hit em up Lyrics

Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no m_________in friends
That's why I f___ed yo' b____, you fat m_________er
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is n____z
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, f___ your b____ in the c___ you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I f___ed your wife
We bust on Bad Boy n____z f___ed for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark a__ b____es
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, 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___ around with real G's
Quick to s_____ yo' ugly a__ off tha street, so f___ peace
I let them n____s know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
f___ wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...

Chorus:
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
n____, I hit em' up...

Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you m____fuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
b____ made-a__ bad boy b____es -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz 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
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a f___in rocka wanna do, n____
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, n____
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up

Chorus

Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you n____z gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
n____z think they learned to fly
But they burned m____fucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you n____z living b__my, while you f___in' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the b____ to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, 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 you love to hate
m_________er, I hit em up

Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you c__ed up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the f___
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots c___ 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 Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint s___ 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 ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no m____fuckin joke
Thug Life, n____z 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
n____ I hit em up

Outro: Tupac
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
How the f___ they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna f___ with us?
You little young a__ m_________ers
Don't one of you n____z got sickle cell or somethin?
You f___in with me n____ you f___ around
and have a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the f___ up, fore you get smacked the f___ up
That's how we do it on our side
Any of you n____z from New York that wanna bring it bring it
But we ain't singin, we bringin drama
f___ you and your m_________in mama
We gonna kill all you m_________ers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a m_________in opinion
Well this how we gonna do this
f___ Mobb Deep
f___ Biggie
f___ Bad Boy as a staff record label
and as a m_________in crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy
Then f___ you too
Chino XL, f___ you too
All you m_________ers, f___ you too

(take money)
(take money)

Alla y'all m_________ers, f___ you die slow m_________er
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You m_________ers can't be us or see us
We the m_________in Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you m_________ers
We do our job
You think you mob, n____ we the m_________in mob
Ain't nuttin but killers and the real n____z
All you m_________ers feel us
Our s___'s going triple and four-quadruple

(take money)

You n____z blast as our staff got guns at they
m_________ers back, you know how it is
When we drop records they feel it
You n____z can't feel it
We the realest, f___ EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes