2 Pac - Hit 'Em Up (Original Version) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• 2 Pac
• Hit 'Em Up (Original Version)

[Intro: 2Pac]
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker
West Side, Bad Boy killers
You know who the realest is
We bring it too
Take money, take money

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark-ass bitches
We keep on coming while we running for your jewels
Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the Westside ride the night
Bad Boys murdered on wax and killed
Fuck with me and get your caps peeled
You know

[Hook]
Grab your Glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish
Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga I hit em up

[Interlude]
Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boys bitches

[Verse 2: Hussein Fatal]
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Moo' pass the Mac
And let me hit em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting traps
Little accident-murderer
And I ain't never heard of you
Poisonous Gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank you, shank your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, cause I'm a slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm running through, nigga
And I'm smoking Junior MAFIA in front of you, nigga
With the ready-power tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty/sour
I push packages every hour, I hit em up

[Hook]

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
Peep how we do it
Keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open
Trying to come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope. It's like a Sherm-high
Niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me
I'm a self-made millionaire!
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the air
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style
5 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
Motherfucker I'll hit em up

[Kadafi]
I'm from N E W Jers'
Where plenty of murders occurs
No points to come, we bring drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario: Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Copping pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim: is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fuck, is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting and polluting your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass East coast props
Brainstormed and locked

[E.D.I. Mean]
You's a beat biter
A Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face you ain'