歌词
You fat mother****e
（Take money）
West side
Bad Boy killaz Bad Boy
（Take money）
You know the realest is, ****
（take money）
We bring it to you
（Take money）
（That's aiight hahaha）
（Take money）
First of all **** your bitch and the clique you clai
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I ****ed your wif
We bust on Bad Boyz' mother****er
****ed for lif
Plus, Puffy tryin to see me
Weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A.
Some mark ass bitche
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 G
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the street
So **** peac
I let them niggas know it's on for lif
So let the West side ride tonight hahaa
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
**** with me and get ya caps peele
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
Bitch, I hit 'em up
Back's to the wall, I'm stacking up all them odds
Toilets clogged, yeah, ‘cause I'm talking a lot of shit
But I'm backing it all up
But in my head there's a voice in the back and it hollers
After the track is demolished, "I am your lack of a conscience"
I'm the ringing in your ears
I'm the polyps on the back of your tonsils
Eatin' your vocal chords after your concerts
I'm your time that's almost up that you haven't acknowledged
Grab for some water
But I'm that pill that's too jagged to swallow
I'm the bullies you hate
That you became with every f****t you slaughtered
Coming back on you, every woman you insult
Batter, but the double-standards you have
When it comes to your daughters
I represent everything you take for granted
‘Cause Marshall Mathers, the rapper's persona, is half a facade
And Matthew and Stan's just symbolic
Of you not knowing what you had 'til it's gone
‘Cause after all the glitz and the glam
No more fans that are calling your name
Cameras are off, sad, but it happens to all of them
I'm the hindsight to say, “I told you so!”
Foreshadows of all the things that are to follow
I'm the future that's here to show you what happens tomorrow
If you don't stop after they call ya
Biggest laughing stock of rap who can't call it quits
When it's time to walk away, I'm every guilt trip
The baggage you have, but as you gather up all your possessions, if there's anything you have left to say
'Less it makes an impact, then don't bother
So 'fore you rest your case
Better make sure you're packing a wallop
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
Bitch, I hit 'em up
Check this out, you mutha****az 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
Bitch made ass Bad Boy bitches
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 Frank White
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 than a ****in rocka wanna do, bitch Puff
And I'll smoke your Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, bitch
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
Bitch, 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' shit it's like a sherm high
Niggas think they learned to fly
But they burned mutha****a
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 Biggie，
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house (uh)
Now it's all about Versaci
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me 5
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
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
Bitch, 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
Bitch, I hit 'em up