" 

 ""Hit 'Em Up"" 

 [Tupac] 

 I ain't got no mutha fuckin friends 
 Thats why I fucked your bitch 
 You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} 
 West Side 
 Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} 
 You know who the realist is 
 niggas we bring it to {Take Money} 
 (ha ha, that's alright) 

 First off, fuck your bitch 
 And the click you claim 
 West side when we ride 
 Come equipped with game 
 You claim to be a playa 
 But, I fucked your wife 
 We bust on Bad Boys 
 niggas fuck for Life 
 Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak 
 Hearts I rip 
 Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia 
 Some mark ass bitches 
 We keep on coming 
 While we running for yah jewels 
 Steady gunning 
 Keep on busting at them fools 
 You know the rules 
 Little Ceasar go ask you homie 
 How i'll leave yah 
 Cut your young ass up 
 See yah in pieces 
 Now be deceased 
 Little Kim, 
 Don't fuck around with real G's 
 Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets 
 So fuck peace 
 I'll let them niggas know 
 It's on for Life 
 Don't let the west side 
 Ride the night (ha ha) 
 Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill 
 fuck with me 
 And get your caps peeled 
 You know, See 

 [Chorus] 

 Grab your glocks when you see 2pac 
 Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh 
 Who shot me, 
 But, your punks didn't finish 
 Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace 
 nigga, I hit 'em up 

 Check this out 
 You mutha-fuckas know what time it is 
 I don't know why I'm even on this track 
 Y'all niggas ain't even on my level 
 I'm going to let my little homies 
 Ride on yah 
 bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches 
 {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up} 

 Get out the way yo 
 Get out the way yo 
 Biggie Smalls just got dropped 
 Little move pa*s the mac 
 And let me hit 'em in his back 
 Frank White needs to get spanked right 
 For setting up traps 
 Little accident murderers 
 And I ain't never heard of yah 
 Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah 
 Spank the shank 
 Your whole style when I gank 
 Guard your rank 
 Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang 
 Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block 
 I'm running through nigga 
 And I'm smoking Junior Mafia 
 In front of yah nigga 
 With the ready power 
 Tucked in my Guess 
 Under my Eddie Bower 
 Your clout petty sour 
 I push packages ever hour 
 I hit 'em up 

 [Chorus] 

 Grab your glocks when you see 2pac 
 Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh 
 Who shot me, 
 But, your punks didn't finish 
 Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace 
 nigga, We hit 'em up 

 Peep how we do it 
 Keep it real 
 Its penitentiary steel 
 This ain't no freestyle battle 
 All you niggas getting killed 
 With your mouths open 
 Tryin' to come up off of me 
 You and the clouds hoping 
 Smoking dope 
 It's like a Shermine 
 niggas think they learned to fly 
 But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die 
 Talking about you Getting Money 
 But its funny to me 
 All you niggas living bummy 
 While you fucking with me? 
 I'm a self made Millionaire 
 Thug livin', out of prison 
 Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) 
 Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch 
 And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house 
 Now its 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 A-K 
 I'm still the thug that you love to hate 
 Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up 

 I'm from N E W Jers. 
 Where plenty of murder occurs 
 No points to come 
 We bring drama to all you herds 
 Now go check the scenerio 
 Little Ceas' 
 I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees 
 Copin' pleas with these 
 Little Kim is yah 
 Coked up or doped up 
 Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up 
 What the fuck? 
 Is you stupid? 
 I take money, 
 crash and mash through Brooklyn 
 With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block 
 With fifteen shot, 
 Cocked glock to your knot 
 Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch 
 And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped 
 And all your fake ass east coast props 
 Brainstormed and locked 

 You'se a beat biter 
 Pac style taker 
 I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker 
 So fill the Alize with a chaser 
 'bout to get murdered for the paper 
 E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper 
 Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh) 
 Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke