Hit 'Em Up (Single Version)

作词 : 2Pac/Dennis Lambert/Johnny Jackson/Franne Golde/Bruce Washington/Malcolm Greenidge/Duane S. Hitchings/Yafeu Fula

作曲 : 2Pac/Dennis Lambert/Johnny Jackson/Franne Golde/Bruce Washington/Malcolm Greenidge/Duane S. Hitchings/Yafeu Fula

Ain't got no mother****ing friends

That's why I ****ed yo' b***h

You fat mother****er

（Take money）

West side

Bad Boy killaz

（Take money）

You know the realest is, niggas

（take money）

We bring it to you

（Take money）

（That's aiight hahaha）

（Take money）

**** your clique and the clique you claim

West side when we ride

Come equipped with game

You claim to be a player

But I ****ed your wife

We bust on Bad Boyz' d**ks

****ed for life

Plus, Puffy tryin to see me

Weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A.

Some mark ass b*****s

We keep on comin

While we runnin for ya jewels

Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools

You know the rules

Little Ceaser

Go ask your homie how I leave ya

Cut your young ass up

Leave you in pieces

Now be deceased

Lil' Kim

Don't **** around with real Gs

Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the street

So **** peace

I let them niggas know it's on for life

So let the West side ride tonight hahaa

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

**** with me and get ya caps peeled

You know

See

Grab your 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

B***h, I hit 'em up!

Check this out, you mother****ers know what time it is?

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

Y'all niggas ain't even on my level

Imma let my little homies ride on you

B***h made ass Bad Boy b*****s

Deal with it!

Get out the way, yo

Get out the way, yo

Biggie Smallz just got dropped

Little Moo, pass the Mack

And let me hit him in his back

Frank White need to get spanked right

For settin tracks

Little accident murderer

And I ain't never heard of ya

Poisinous gats attack

When I'm servin' ya

Spank the shank

Ya whole style when I dank

Guard your rank

Cause Imma slam your ass in the pavement

Puffy weaker that a ****in' rocka wanna do, b***h

And I'll smoke your Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, b***h

With the ready power tuckin

My Guess under my Eddie Bauer

Your clout

Pretty sour

I get packages every hour

I hit 'em up

Grab your 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

B***h, I hit 'em up!

Peep how we do it

Keep it real

It's penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle

All you niggas gettin killed

With your mouths open

Tryin' to come up off'a me

You in the clouds hoping

Smokin' weed it's like a sherm high

Niggas think they learned to fly

But they burned mother****er

You deserve to die

Talkin 'bout you gettin money

But it's funny to me

All you niggas living bummy

While you ****in' wit 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 the b***h to let you sleep in the house (uh)

Now it's all about Versaci

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 AK

I'm still the thug you love to hate

Mother****er

I hit em up

I'm from N-E-W-Jerz

Where plenty murders occur

No points to calm

We bringin' drama to all you herbs

Knuckle check the scenario

Lil' Cease, I bring you fake Gs to your knees

Coppin' please, the DJ narrow you

Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?

Get ya lil Junior Whopper clique smoked up

What the ****, is you stupid?

I take money

Crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my click lootin'

Shooting and polluting your block

With 15 shot c**k glock to your knot

Outlaw M.A.F.I.A. clique movin' up another notch

And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped

All your fake ass east coast props brainstormed and locked

Youz a beat biter, a Pac style taker

I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit

But a faker

Softer than Alize with a chaser

'Bout to get murdered for the paper

Idi Amin approach the scene

Write a caper like a loc

With Lil' Ceaser in a choke hold

Totin smoke, we ain't no mother****in' joke

Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'

We approchin in the wide open, guns smokin'

No need for hopin it's a battle lost, I got across

Soon as the funk was poppin off

B***h, I hit em up!

Now you tell me who won.. I see them, they run..（hahaha）

They don't wanna see us

Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin up tryin' to be us

How the **** they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?

We're millionaires, killin' ain't fair but somebody gotta do it

Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna **** with us?

You little young ass Mother****erz

Don't one of you niggas got sickle cell or sumpin?

You ****in' with me, b***h, you **** around have a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the **** up befo' you get smacked the **** up

That's how we do it on our side

Any you niggas from New York that wanna bring it.. bring it!

But we ain't singin', we bringin' trauma

**** you and your mother****in mama

We gonna kill all you Mother****erz

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

Then everybody had to open they mouth with a mother****in opinion

Well this how we gonna do this... **** Mobb Deep!

**** Biggie... **** Bad Boy as a staff record label

And as a mother****in' crew!

And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy

Then **** you, too! Chino XL, **** you too!

All you Mother****erz

**** you too!

（Take money） 2x

All of y'all Mother****ers, **** you

Die slow Mother****er

My fo fo make sure all y'all kids don't grow

You Mother****erz can't be us or see us

We're mother****in thug life ridahz

West side 'till we die!

Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you Mother****erz

We do our job

You think you mob, nigga WE the mother****ing mob

Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggas

All you Mother****erz feel us

Our shit 's going triple and four-quadruple

（Take money）

You niggas blast as our staff got

Guns at they Mother****erz back

You know how it is

When we dropped records, they felt it

You niggas can't feel it

We the realest

Hit 'Em Up (Single Version) by 2Pac, Outlawz from the album Greatest Hits: **** 'em, we Bad Boy killin'

（We killin'）