เพลง Hit 'Em Up

Hit 'Em Up - 2Pac (图派克)

Written by：Shakur/Dennis Lambert/Franne Golde/Duane S. Hitchings

I ain't got no motherf**kin' friends

That's why I f**ked yo' b**ch you fat motherf**ker

Take money

West Side Bad Boy killas

Take money

You know who the realest is

Take money

We bring it too

Take money

First off f**k yo' b**ch and the clique you claim

Westside when we ride come equipped with game

You claim to be a player but I f**ked your wife

We bust on Bad Boys niggas f**ked for life

Plus Puffy tryna see me weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smalls and Junior M A F I A is some mark a** b**ches

We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels

Steady gunnin' keep on bustin' at them fools you know the rules

Lil' Caesar go ask your homie how I'll leave ya

Cut your young a** up leave you in pieces now be deceased

Lil' Kim don't f**k around with real G's

Quick to snatch yo' ugly a** off the streets so f**k peace

I'll let them niggas know it's on for life

Don't let the Westside ride tonight ha ha ha

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

f**k with me and get yo' caps peeled you know

See grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac uh

Who shot me

But you punks didn't finish

Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Ni**a I hit 'em up

Check this out you motherf**kers know what time it is

I don't know why I'm even on this track

Y'all niggas ain't even on my level

I'ma let my little homies ride

On you b**ch made a** Bad Boy b**ches feel it

Get out the way yo get out the way yo

Biggie Smalls just got dropped

Little Moo' pass the MAC

And let me hit him in his back

Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps

Little accident murderer

And I ain't never heard of ya

Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya

Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank

Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a** in the paint

Puffy weaker than the f**kin' block I'm runnin' through ni**a

And I'm smokin' Junior M A F I A in front of you ni**a

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

Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac uh

Who shot me

But you punks didn't finish

Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Ni**a I hit 'em up

Peep how we do it keep it real as penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle all you niggas gettin' killed

With your mouths open

Tryna come up off of me you in the clouds hopin'

Smokin' d**e it's like a sherm high

Niggas think they learned to fly

But they burn motherf**ker you deserve to die

Talkin' about you gettin' money but it's funny to me

All you niggas livin' bummy why you f**kin' with me

I'm a self made millionaire

Thug livin' out of prison pistols in the air ha ha

Biggie remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch

And beg a b**ch to let you sleep in the house

Now it's 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 AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate

Motherf**ker I hit 'em up

I'm from N E W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs

No points or commas we bring drama to all you herbs

Now go check the scenario Lil' Cease

I'll bring you fake G's to your knees coppin' pleas in de Janeiro

Little Kim is you coked up or doped up

Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up

What the f**k is you stupid

I take money crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my click lootin' shootin' and pollutin' your block

With a 15 shot cocked Glock to your knot

Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch

And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped

All your fake a** East Coast props brainstormed and locked

You's a beat biter a Pac style taker

I'll tell you to your face you ain't sh*t but a faker

Softer than Alize with a chaser

About to get murdered for the paper

E D I Mean approach the scene of the caper

Like a loc with Little Ceas' in a choke

Gun totin' smoke we ain't no motherf**kin' joke

Thug Life niggas better be knowin'

We approachin' in the wide open gun smokin'

No need for hopin' it's a battle lost

I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off

Ni**a 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 M A F I A clique dressin' up tryna be us

How the f**k 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**k with us

You little young a** motherf**kers

Don't one of you niggas got sickle cell or somethin'

You're f**kin' with me ni**a

You f**k around and have a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the f**k up

Before you get smacked the f**k up

This is how we do it on our side

Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it bring it

But we ain't singin' we bringin' drama

F**k you and yo' motherf**kin' mama

We gon' kill all you motherf**kers

Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie

Then everybody had to open their mouth

With a motherf**kin' opinion

Well this is how we gonna do this f**k Mobb Deep f**k Biggie

F**k Bad Boy as a staff record label and as a motherf**kin' crew

And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy then f**k you too

Chino XL f**k you too

All you motherf**kers f**k you too

Take money take money

All of y'all motherf**kers f**k you die slow

Motherf**ker my 44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow

You motherf**kers can't be us or see us

We motherf**kin' Thug Life ridas Westside 'til we die

Out here in California ni**a we warned ya

We'll bomb on you motherf**kers

We do our job

You think you mob Ni**a we the motherf**kin' mob

Ain't nothin' but killas

And the real niggas all you motherf**kers feel us

Our sh*t goes triple and 4 quadruple

You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under their motherf**kin' belts

You know how it is when we drop records they felt

You niggas can't feel it we the realest

F**k 'em we Bad Boy killas