2Pac — Hit Em Up Radio Version

[Intro: 2Pac] I ain't got no friends Yeah, I'ma do this track Westside! MOB, Bad Boy Killa! Hahahaha, hey fat boy... [Verse 1: 2Pac] First off, touched your chick and the clique you claim Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game You claim to be a player, but I bust your wife We bust on Bad Boys, brothers touched for life Plus Puffy trying to see me, weak hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. are some mark-ass tricks We keep on coming while we gunning for your jewels Steady rushing, while we busting at them fools You know the rules Lil' Caesar go ask your homie how I'll leave you Cut your trick ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased Little Kim, don't conversate with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly hair off the streets You little weave! I'll let them suckas know it's on for life Don't let the Westside ride the night haha Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed Mess with me and get your caps peeled You know, huh [Hook: 2Pac] See, Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace Sucka, I hit 'em up [Interlude: 2Pac] Yeah, straight out on the Bad Boy camp You know how we do it All my real homeboys in New York keep thuggin' All the rest of you bustas die slow! [Verse 2: Hussein Fatal] Get out the way yo, Hussein Fatal Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little Moo', pass the MAC And let me hit him in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps Little accident murderer And I ain't never heard of ya Poisonous 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 a block that I'm runnin' through And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you 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! [Hook: 2Pac] Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace Sucka, I hit 'em up [Verse 3: 2Pac] Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle, all you suckers gettin' killed with your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me you and the clouds hopin', smokin' dope It's like a Sherm high, brothers think they learned to fly But they burn little suckers you deserve to die Talkin' about you gettin' money but it's funny to me All you suckers livin' bummy while you messin' with me I'm a self-made millionaire Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the trick that I 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 A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Little busta I'll Hit 'Em Up [Verse 4: Kadafi] 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: Lil' Cease I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro Big Momma, is you coked up or doped up? Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up Please tell me is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked [Verse 5: E.D.I. Mean] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker I'll tell you to your face you ain't nothin' but a faker Softer than Alize with a chaser About to get murdered for the paper E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper Like a loc, with Prodigy' in a choke Gun totin' smoke, Outlawz we ain't no joke Thug Life, cowards better be knowin' We approachin' in the wide-open, gun smokin' No need for hopin', it's a battle lost I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off HAHA, I hit 'em up! [Outro: 2Pac] Empty clips, set trip You know what time it is Westside, Outlaw, Thug Life till we die California love, California thug You know what time it is Bad Boy Killa Mobb Deep Killa Chino XL Killa Much love to Smif-N-Wessun, Freddie Foxxx, Bunchy The Fat Bastard, Naughty By Nature and all the real thugs out there Keep it comin'! Westside! You know what time it is All my real homeboys in Jersey, get up! Outlaw! Thug Life! to die Westside, Outlaw Live it up or give it up, Busta Hahahaha, Yeah! You know what time it is Love bout you, hate about me Gun talkin' automatic mini's` Eleven's, fo'teens Whatever! You wanna see us? Have you punks wannabe's Bad Boy Killa, we the realest, whatever! We got, together, Outlawz! Thugs to the realest, feel us, All you suckas die! Slow, my fo-fo', go, bow-bow Kastro, EDI, close my foes Without love, no love, do ya You knew it! It came with it, we bought it, record it, THUG LIFE! Forever, together, we ride, we die, we high FOREVER! THUG LIFE! OUTLAW RIDAHZ! Westside! M.O.B.!