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2pac - hit 'em up (dirty version) كلمات الأغنية

[intro:2pac and a b_tch saying take money]
sucka_ass, i ain’t got no motherf_ckin’ friends
that’s why i f_cked yo’ b_tch, you fat motherf_cker
(take money) west side, bad boy k!llas
(take money) (you know) you know who the realest is
(take money) n_ggas, we bring it too
that’s ‘ight, ha_ha
(take money) ha_ha

[verse 1:2pac]
first off, f_ck your b_tch and the clique you claim
westside when we ride, come equipped with game
you claim to be a player, but i f_cked your wife
we bust on bad boys, n_ggas f_cked for life
plus, puffy tryna see me, weak hearts i rip
biggie smalls and junior m.a.f.i.a. is some mark_ass b_tchеs
we keep on coming while we running for your jеwels
steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules
lil caesar, go ask your homie how i’ll leave ya
cut your young_ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
lil kim, don’t f_ck around with real g’s
quick to sn_tch yo’ ugly ass off the streets, so f_ck peace
i’ll let them n_ggas know it’s on for life
don’t let the westside ride tonight, ha_ha
bad boy murdered on wax and k!lled
f_ck with me and get yo’ caps peeled, you know
[chorus:2pac]

who shot me? but you punks didn’t finish
now you ’bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)
n_gga, i hit ’em up

[bridge:2pac]
check this out, you motherf_ckers know what time it is
i don’t even know why i’m on this track
y’all n_ggas ain’t even on my level
i’ma let my lil’ homies ride on you b_tch_made ass bad boy b_tches, feel it!

[verse 2:outlawz]
get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
biggie smalls just got dropped
little mu’, pass 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 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_cking block i’m running through, n_gga
and i’m smoking junior m.a.f.i.a. in front of you, n_gga
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!
[chorus:2pac]
see, grab your glocks when you see 2pac
call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
who shot me? but you punks didn’t finish
now you ’bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)
n_gga, 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_ggas getting k!lled with your mouths open
tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping
smoking dope, it’s like a sherm high
n_ggas think they learned to fly
but they burn, motherf_cker, you deserve to die
talking about you getting money, but it’s funny to me
all you n_ggas living bummy while you f_cking with me
i’m a self_made millionaire
thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha_ha
biggie, remember when i used to let you sleep on the couch
and beg a b_tch 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_cker, i hit ’em up!
[verse 3:outlawz]
motherf_cker, i hit ’em up!
i’m from n_e_w jers’ where plenty of murders occurs
no points or commas, we bring the 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 clique smoked up
what the f_ck? is you stupid?
i take money, crash and mash through brooklyn
with my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block
with a 15_shot c_cked glock to your knot
outlaw mafia clique moving up another notch
and your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
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 alizé 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 toting smoke, we ain’t no motherf_cking joke
thug life, n_ggas better be knowing
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
n_gga, i hit ’em up

[freedom of speech and outro:2pac]
now you tell me who won
i see them, they run, hahahaha
they don’t wanna see us
whole junior m.a.f.i.a. clique dressing up tryna be us
how the f_ck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?
we millionaires
k!lling ain’t fair, but somebody gotta do it
oh_yeah, mobb deep, huh, you wanna f_ck with us?
you little young_ass motherf_ckers
don’t one of you n_ggas got sickle_cell or something?
you’re f_cking with me, n_gga
you f_ck around and have a seizure or a heart attack
you better back the f_ck up, ‘fore you get smacked the f_ck up
this is how we do it on our side
any of you n_ggas from new york that wanna bring it, bring it
but we ain’t singing, we bringing drama
f_ck you and yo’ motherf_cking mama!
we gon’ k!ll all you motherf_ckers!
now when i came out, i told you it was just about biggie
then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherf_cking opinion
well, this is how we gonna do this, f_ck mobb deep! f_ck biggie!
f_ck bad boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherf_cking crew
and if you wanna be down with bad boy, then f_ck you too
chino xl, f_ck you too
all you motherf_ckers, f_ck you too
(take money, take money)
all of y’all motherf_ckers, f_ck you, die slow motherf_cker
my .44 make sho’ all y’all kids don’t grow!
you motherf_ckers can’t be us or see us
we motherf_cking thug life ridas, westside ’til we die!
out here in california, n_gga, we warned ya
we’ll bomb on you motherf_ckers! we do our job!
you think you mob? n_gga, we the motherf_cking mob!
ain’t nothing but k!llas and the real n_ggas, all you motherf_ckers feel us
our sh_t goes triple and four_quadruple
you n_ggas laugh ’cause our staff got guns in they motherf_ckers belts
you know how it is, when we drop records, they felt
you n_ggas can’t feel it, we the realest
f_ck ’em! we bad boy k!llas

- 2pac

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