Soundtracks - Hit 'Em Up by 2PAC lyrics

Yeah Ayo I think y'all gonna like this next song When this song drops, I want all the West coast people to give up some love when this song come up Y'all about to go crazy They try to ban this song They don't wanna play my song But they want to play Fat Boy all goddamn day Come on, come on (take money) Come on, come on (take money) What's up ni**as First off, f**k your b**ch and the click 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 Boy ni**az f**ked for life Plus Puffy tryin' ta see me weak hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. Some mark-ass b**ches We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased Lil' Kim, don't f**k around with real G's Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so f**k peace I let them ni**az know it's on for life So let the Westside ride tonight Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed f**k wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace ni**a, we hit em' up Yes, yo, Outlaw to this mutherf**ker (take money) West Coast, what's up? (take money) What's up Get out the way yo, get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got shot Little Moo, pass the mac, and let me hit him in his back Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin' traps Little accident murderers, and I ain't never heard-a ya Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank Guard your rank, 'cause I'ma slam your ass 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 tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer Ya clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up Oh Call the cops, when you see Tupac Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace ni**a, I hit em' up Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you ni**az gettin killed with ya mouths open Tryin' to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin' Smokin dope it's like a sherm high ni**az think they learned to fly But they burn motherf**ker, you deserve to die Talkin' bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me All you ni**az livin' bummy, why you f**kin' with me? I'm a self made millionaire Thug livin' out a prison, pistols in the air 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 bout to set the record straight With my A.K. 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 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 f**k, 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 ass 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 Amin approach the scene of the caper Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke Gun totin' smoke. We ain't no motherf**king joke ni**a, better be known We 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 ni**a, I hit em up Oh oh Hah yeah We hit 'em up Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Come on with the next sh*t Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace ni**a, we hit em' up That's right Go Yo Y'all gotta keep this sh*t real