Dutsche Hit 'Em Up Lyrics

So I f___ed your b____
You fat m____-f___a {take money}
West side
Bad boy killers {take money}
You know who the realist is
n____s we bring it to {take money}
[ha ha, thats alright]

First off, f___ your b____
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a playa
But, I f___ed your wife
We bust on bad boys
n____s f___ for life
Plus puffy tryin to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie smalls and junior mafia
Some mark a__ b____es
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 Ill leave yah
Cut your young a__ up
See yah in pieces
Now be deceased
Little kim,
Dont f___ with real a__ gs
Quick to s_____ your ugly a__, off the streets
So f___ peace
Ill let them n____s know
Its on for life
Dont let the west side
Ride the night [ha ha]
Bad boys murdered on wax and kill
f___ 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 didnt finish
Now, you bout to feel the wrath of a menace
n____, I hit em up

Check this out
You m____-f___as know what time it is
I dont know why Im even on this track
Yall n____s aint even on my level
Im going to let my little homies
Ride on yah
b____ made a__ bad boys b____es
{ahh yo, yo, hold the f___ up}

Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie smalls just got dropped
Little move pass 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 aint never heard of yah
Poise less gats attack when Im serving yah
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Gaurd your rank
Cause Im a slam your a__ in a pang
Puffy weaker than a f___in block
Im running through n____
And Im smoking junior mafia
In front of yah n____
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 didnt finish
Now, you bout to feel the wrath of a menace
n____, we hit em up

Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentary steel
This aint no freestyle battle
All you n____s getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
Its like a shermine
n____s think they learned to fly
But they burn m____-f___a you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money
But its funny to me
All you n____s living b__my
While you f___ing with me?
Im a self made millioniare
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 b____ to let you sleep on the house
Now its all about versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldnt drop me
I took it and smiled
Now Im back to set the record straight
With my a-k
Im still the thug that you love to hate
m____-f___a Ill hit em up

Im from n e w jers.
Where plenty of murders occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio
Little ceas
Ill bring you fake gs to yah knees
Copin pleas with these [? ? ? ]
Little kim is yah
c__ed up or doped up
Get your little junior whopper click smoked up
What the f___?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
Crash and mash through brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
c___ed glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click moving up another knotch
And your [? pop stars pops? ] and get dropped and mopped
And all your fake a__ east coast props
Brainstormed and locked

Yous a b-writer
Pac style taker
Ill tell you to face, you aint nothing s___ but a faker
Soften the alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi amin approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little ceas in a choke [uhh]
Toting smoke, we aint no m____-f___in joke
Thug life, n____s better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
Its a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping off
n____, I hit em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run [ha ha]
They dont wanna see us
Whole junior mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the f___ they gonna be the mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaires
Killing aint fair
But somebody got to do it

Oh yah mobb deep [uhh]
You wanna f___ with us
You little young a__ m____-f___as
Dont one of you n____s got sickle-cell or something
You f___ing with me, n____ ?
You f___ around and catch a siezure or a heart-attack
You better back the f___ up
Before you get smacked the f___ up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you n____s from new york that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we aint singing,
We bringing drama
f___ you and your mother f___ing mama.
We gonna kill all you mother f___ers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother f___in opinion
Well this is how we gon do this:
f___ mobb deep,
f___ biggie,
f___ bad boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother f___in crew.
And if you want to be down with bad boy,
Then f___ you too.
Chino xl, f___ you too.
All you mother f___ers,
f___ you too.
(take money, take money)
All of yall mother f___ers,
f___ you, die slow mother f___er.
My fo fo (.44 magnum) make sure all yo kids dont grow.
You mother f___ers cant be us or see us.
We mother f___in thug life riders.
West side till we die.
Out here in california, n____
We warned ya
Well bomb on you mother f___ers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, n____, we the mother f___in mob
Aint nuttin but killers
And the real n____s, all you mother f___ers feel us.
Our s___ goes tripple and four quadruple
You n____s laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother f___in belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You n____s cant feel it
We the realist
f___ em.
We bad boy killas.