best rap song ever - 2pac hit em up
So I fvcked your bitch
You fat mutha - fvcka {Take Money}
West Side
Bad Boy Killers {Take Money}
You know who the realist is
n!ggas we bring it to {Take Money}
{ha ha, that's alright}
First off, fvck your bitch
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a playa
But, I fvcked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
n!ggas fvck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
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 ass up
See yah in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fvck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fvck peace
I'll let them n!ggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night {ha ha}
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
fvck 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
n!gga, I hit 'em up
Check this out
You mutha - fvckas know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
Y'all n!ggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on yah
Bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
{ahh yo, yo, hold the fvck 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 ain't never heard of yah
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Gaurd your rank
Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fvckin' block
I'm running through n!gga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of yah n!gga
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
n!gga, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you n!ggas 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
n!ggas think they learned to fly
But they burn mutha - fvcka you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But its funny to me
All you n!ggas living bummy
While you fvcking with me?
I'm 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 bitch to let you sleep on 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 - fvcka I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm 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'
I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees
Copin' pleas with these {???}
Little Kim is yah
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fvck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
Crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked 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 ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a B - writer
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing sh!t 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 ain't no mutha - fvckin' joke
Thug Life, n!ggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping off
n!gga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run {ha ha}
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the fvck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep {uhh}
You wanna fvck with us
You Little young ass mutha - fvckas
Don't one of you n!ggas got sickle - cell or something
You fvcking with me, n!gga ?
You fvck around and catch a siezure or a heart - attack
You better back the fvck up
Before you get smacked the fvck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you n!ggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
fvck you and your mother fvcking mama.
We gonna kill all you mother fvckers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fvckin opinion
Well this is how we gon' do this:
fvck Mobb Deep,
fvck Biggie,
fvck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fvckin crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then fvck you too.
Chino XL, fvck you too.
All you mother fvckers,
fvck you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fvckers,
fvck you, die slow mother fvcker.
My fo' fo' (. 44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow.
You mother fvckers can't be us or see us.
We mother fvckin' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California, n!gga
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother fvckers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, n!gga, we the mother fvckin' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers
And the real n!ggas, all you mother fvckers feel us.
Our sh!t goes tripple and four quadruple
You n!ggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fvckin' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You n!ggas can't feel it
We the realist
fvck 'em.
We Bad Boy killas.
Facebook
Twitter