[Intro: 2Pac]
I ain't got no motherf**ing friends
That's why I f**ed your b**h, you fat motherf**er
Take money
West Side, Bad Boy k**ers
Take money
You know who the realest is
We bring it too
Take money, take money
[Verse 1: 2Pac]
First off, f** your b**h and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but I f**ed your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, n***as f**ed for life
Plus Puffy trying to see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark-a** b**hes
We keep on coming while we running for your j**els
Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Lil' Caesar go ask your homie how I'll leave you
Cut your young a** up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Little Kim, don't f** around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly a** off the streets
So f** peace! I'll let them n***as know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride the night haha
Bad Boy murdered on wax and k**ed
f** with me and get your caps peeled
You know
[Hook: 2Pac]
See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh
Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish
Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace
n***a, I hit 'em up
[Interlude: 2Pac]
Check this out, you motherf**ers know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
Y'all n***as ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies ride on you b**h-made a** Bad Boy b**hes
Take money
[Verse 2: Hussein Fatal]
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Moo' pa** the MAC and let me hit him in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps
Little accident-murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya
Spank you, shank your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank cause I'ma slam your a** in the paint
Puffy weaker than the f**in' block I'm running through, n***a
And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n***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
[Hook: 2Pac]
Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh
Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish
Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace
n***a, I hit 'em up
[Verse 3: 2Pac]
Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you n***as getting k**ed with your mouths open
Trying to come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high
n***as think they learned to fly
But they burn, motherf**er, you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me
All you n***as living bummy – why you f**ing with me?
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air haha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And beg a b**h 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**er, I'll hit 'em up
[Verse 4: Kadafi]
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
Copping pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim, is you coked 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 a 15-shot co*ked 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 a** East Coast props
Brainstormed and locked
[Verse 5: E.D.I. Mean]
Jui-cer
You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face you ain't sh** 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**ing joke
Thug Life, n***as better be known
Be approaching in the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping, it's a battle lost
I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
n***a, I hit 'em up!
[Outro: 2Pac]
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run haha
They don't wanna see us
Take money
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up trying to be us
Take money
How the f** they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires
k**ing ain't fair, but somebody got to do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep: you wanna f** with us?
You little young-a** motherf**ers
Don't one of you n***as got sickle-cell or something?
You're f**ing with me, n***a
You f** around and catch a seizure 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***as from New York that want to bring it:
Bring it!
But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
f** you and your motherf**ing mama
We gon' k** all you motherf**ers
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherf**ing opinion
Well, this is how we gonna do this:
f** Mobb Deep, f** Biggie, f** Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherf**ing crew!
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, then f** you too!
Chino XL: f** you too!
All you motherf**ers, f** you too!
(Take money, take money)
All of y'all motherf**ers, f** you; die slow, motherf**er
My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow!
You motherf**ers can't be us or see us
We motherf**in' Thug Life-riders, Westside til we die!
Out here in California, n***a, we warned ya
We'll bomb on you motherf**er! We do our job!
You think you mob? n***a, we the motherf**in' mob
Ain't nothing but k**ers and the real n***as
All you motherf**ers feel us
Our sh** goes triple and 4-quadruple
Take money
You n***as laugh cause our staff got guns under they motherf**in' belts
You know how it is, when we drop records they felt
You n***as can't feel it, we the realest
f** 'em, we Bad Boy-k**ers
We k**ers, we k**ers, we k**ers