2pac - No Mercy lyrics

Tell me about these fake a** b**hes [2Pac] Look here little n***a Most of these n***as be b**hes too But you'll never hear that side of the story So uhh, we finna do this sh** like this It's like I tell my n***as, keep your eyes on these b**hes They love to G a n***a young dumb and gettin riches What the f** you think a trick is n***a n***a done stick and wet his dick And then get tricked out all his riches by a -- b*tch! I'm here to school you to the rules of the game, it'll cost ya Think you alla that just cause she let a n***a toss her It's like a motherf**in priveledge So don't give up your conversation, give that b**h your 7 digits When she call ya, ask that tramp wha**up And if she hesitate, n***a hang up, worrrd up And let that b**h meditate to the dial tone And call me when you're ready to bone, and it's on A motherf**ing mack tonight Stay that stay strapped cause my raps is tight You f**in punks, I hate you snitches Went against the grain and the game to be fake a** b**hes (God, damn! You can't just hit them n***as with that game And expect them to accept it; girl your heard me it gets skanless But we gonna kick this sh** like this here) [Chorus: 2Pac] I can't stand fake a** b**hes Lyin a** n***as and you punk a** snitches [repeat 2X] Time to show these bustas who's boss Run up on a real motherf**er and get tossed The game is deep, and thicker than a motherf**in jimmy Broke hoes runnin round yellin "Gimme!" I can't stand it, hoes talkin bout they got a man sh** all I wanted her to do is s** my DICK So how about hittin a motherf**er on my pager Busy now b**h but you can give me the p**y later Fly how I fade her, played her like a game of Sega f**in with the player that done made her, huh And I ain't sleepin caught you creepin for my money Got the dick and now you get the pistol honey (b**h) So get the bozack, knockin hoes back, keep my dough stacked So where the motherf**in hoes at? Punk n***as can't fade the mack, livin fat Gettin paid to rap, it's like that, you motherf**in b**hes Oh you too n***a, don't think we ain't talkin bout your punk a** You old fake a** n***a Standin there wearin all them Pendletons and khakis and all that You soft as a motherf**in grape Ain't this a motherf**in b**h I can see right through your flower a** Some of these n***as is b**hes too, man I tell ya It's gonna be harder and harder to be a Thug in ninety-fo' But we gonna do this sh** Y'all take this sh** and you play this sh** for every single Fake a** b**h out there And there's plenty of em You probably got one sittin next to you right now Bobbin his fake a** head to this, dope a** sh** that he listenin to Fake a** motherf**in b**h, die in ninety-four