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2pac – hit ’em up (nu-mixx) lyrics


[intro: 2pac]
i ain’t got no friends
yeah, i’ma do this track
mob, bad boy k!lla!
hahahaha, hey fat boy…

[verse 1: 2pac]
first off, touch 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 touch for life
plus puffy trying to see me, weak hearts i rip
biggie smalls and junior m.a.f.i.a. some mark–ss tricks
we keep on coming while we gunning for your jewels
steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools
you know the rules
lil’ caesar go ask your homie how i’ll leave you
cut your trick -ss up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
lil kim, don’t compensate for real g’s
quick to sn-tch your ugly -ss off the streets
get a new weave!
i’ll let them suckas know it’s on for life
don’t let the westside ride tonight, haha
bad boy murdered on wax and k!lled
mess with me and get your caps peeled
you know, huh

[chorus: 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, haha!

[verse 2: hussein fatal]
get out the way yo, hussein fatal
biggie smalls just got dropped
little moo’, p-ss 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
shank and spank ya whole style when i gank
guard your rank ’cause i’ma slam your -ss 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!

[chorus: 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
busta, 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’ k!lled
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 begged the tricks 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
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 my enemies to their knees, coppin’ pleas in de janeiro
big momma, is you c0ked up or doped up?
get your little junior whopper clique smoked up
please tell me is you stupid?
i take money, crash and mash through brooklyn
with my cl!ck lootin’, shootin’ and pollutin’ your block
with a 15-shot c-cked glock to your knot
outlaw mafia clique movin’ up another notch
and your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
all your fake–ss 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 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 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 poppin’ off
haha, i hit ’em up!

[outro: 2pac]
empty clips, set trip
you know what time it is
westside, outlaw, thug life ’til we die
california love, california thug
you know what time it is
bad boy k!lla, haha
mobb deep k!lla
chino xl k!lla
much love to smiff n wessun, freddie foxxx, pudgee tha phat b-st-rd
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 ’til we die
westside, outlaw