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tupac thug theory - killshot remix lyrics

intro:
all y’all n-gg-s i don’t give a f-ck who you’re runnin’ with, this is thug life n-gg-, the new generation motherf-cker, you ain’t k!lling’ ease with me..

verse 1 eminem:

you’re looking at attila, the psychopathic k!ller, the caterpillar
don’t tell me when i’m supposed to rap until
especially when your favorite rapper ain’t even half as ill
a savage still, the track’s a banana peel, attack of the silverback gorilla
you’re havin’ a little trouble fathomin’ this is actually happenin’
like anderson silva back when he snapped his shin in half
and then had the sh-t hangin’ by a flap of skin
after he tried to plant the sh-t back on the mat again
pad to pen i’m batty like eyelids when they’re blinkin’ a lot
you copy me, but you’re not
you can’t be b-tterflies, my offsprings are just moths
i see that thing i’ma squash it and rip the wings of it off
so ring the alarm, pull the extinguishers off of the wall
set the sprinklers off like jada pinkett and queen latifah
’till the shingles come off the roof we’ll shout at the ceiling
slaughterhouse in the building, middle fingers aloft
say what i think when i rhyme, in ink-pen i talk
and the language i speak is my mind
kingpin and penguin combined
spit like it’s king of the dot
a singular thought i think of will help you distinguish apart
the frauds from the cream of the crop
(wait a minute) hold up like a flashcard
d-mn dawg, is that copyin’ or payin’ homage?
it’s sad because dad taught you to rap as a d-mn toddler
my dad is your grandfather, i’ll have to re-hatch on you
come back as a black wasp, half yellow jacket, you can’t swat a
sasquatch dancing on top of an ant trample it and stomp it
smash it and stand on it, dammit, i can’t stop it
the rap is a vag’ and i’m goin’ in like a tampon in this b-tch
it’s a manslaughter
stampin’ out gr-sshoppers, you can’t be no rap gods
in fact you’re exact opposites, you make a wack song
and can’t hold a candle but even daniel-san whacks off
you jack-offs need to come to grips like a hand job
the boom bap is coming back with an axe to mumble rap
lumberjack with a hacksaw
number one, but my pencils are number twos
’cause that’s all i dos with ’em, p–p is my pseudonym
on the john like a prost-tute when i’m droppin’ a deuce
and when i’m producing them lyrical bowel movements
these beats are like my saloons
’cause these bars always got my stools in ’em
and i don’t need metamucil to loosen ’em
b-tch, sh-t is real like i p–ped jerusalem
i’m ’bout to go spin another coc–n
then i’m cuttin’ you from your mother’s womb
then i’m flushin’ you!

verse 2 busta rhymes:

busta rhymes, word mother y’all, check it out y’all
just swing to the left, swing to the right
make ya feel good, feel alright
one time, feel good yeah y’all
busta rhymes in the place y’all
makin’ you feel real good y’all
flipmode is the squad in the place y’all

buckwild to all of my n-gg-s who don’t care
floss like a bunch of young black millionaires
makin ya run, me and my dunn, stackin my ones
floss a lil’, invest up in a mutual fund
blowin the horn, a sense of every day i was born
never dream i see a n-gg- landscaping my lawn
dangerous, my n-gg- sh-t be accurate
have to get, the flow be so immaculate
ayo, ayo, watchin’ my dough, sippin’ my moe’
slippin in slow, them pretty b-tches sayin h-llo
anyway go ‘head and diss, play your oil of olay
little honeydip within a little cariola
i don’t mean to hold you up but i got somethin’ to say
swear to only give you hot sh-t everyday
afraid of us, you know this ain’t no game to us
you strange to us, that’s when we gettin’ dangerous, come on

this, is, serious
we could make you delirious
you should have a healthy fear of us
’cause too much of us is dangerous
so dangerous, we so dangerous
my flipmode squad is dangerous
so dangerous, we so dangerous
my whole entire unit is dangerous

hold your breath, we swingin it from right to left
word to wyclef, n-gg- sh-t be hot to death
stayin alive, you know only the stronger survive
holdin my heat, under my seat, whippin my five
b-ssline for all of my people movin around
give me a pound, all of my n-gg-s holdin it down
cuttin you up, the new sh-t, ruckin you up
f-ckin you up, my black hole, suckin you up
back in the days, a n-gg- used to be -ss out
now a n-gg- holdin’ several money market accounts
blaze the street, and then i would just like to announce
feelin’ my groove, my jigga jigga makin’ you bounce
others is fair, me and my n-gg-s breakin the bread
straight gettin it, we got you n-gg-s holdin your head
afraid of us, you know this ain’t no game to us
you strange to us, that’s when we gettin’ dangerous, come on

this, is, serious
we could make you delirious
you should have a healthy fear of us
cause too much of us is dangerous
we so dangerous, we so dangerous
my flipmode squad is dangerous
we so dangerous, we so dangerous
my whole entire unit is dangerous

verse 3 dmx:
don’t making an ease with me, f-ck n-gg-, young motherf-cking thugs, this how with do it, don’t make it an ease n-gg-
six number one alb-ms, imagine that
cats is sick, cause dog got his swagger back
if that sh-t go, nah i ain’t havin’ that
but they don’t want it, i’mma still grab the bat
sh-t ain’t the same, cats done changed the game
f-ck it, all y’all n-gg-s is lame, what’s my motherf-ckin’ name?
(come on) twenty million records sold
while y’all n-gg-s is strugglin’ to go gold!
come on papi! can’t none of y’all n-gg-s stop me
yahmean? y’all n-gg-s is sloppy
what would the game be without me? nada!
cats talkin’ about a whole lotta, prada
gucci and scota, louie vuitton
come on, what up with what’s really goin’ on?
“what’s hood?” you don’t wanna fight yo, i get’s my strap on
put n-gg-s’ lights out {*clapping noise*} clap on!

verse 4 2pac:

we the realest
f-ck ’em, we bad boy k!llas!
first off, f-ck yo’ 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-gg-s 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–ss b-tches
we keep on comin’ while we runnin’ for your jewels
steady gunnin’, keep on bustin’ at them fools, you know the rules
lil’ caesar, go ask your homie how i’ll leave ya
cut your young–ss 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 -ss off the streets, so f-ck peace!
i’ll let them n-gg-s know it’s on for life
don’t let the westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)
bad boy murdered on wax and k!lled
f-ck with me and get yo’ caps peeled, you know

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
n-gg-, i hit ’em up!

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-gg-s ain’t even on my level
i’ma let my little homies ride
on you b-tch-made -ss bad boy b-tches, feel it!

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
n-gg-, we hit ’em up!

peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
this ain’t no freestyle battle, all you n-gg-s gettin’ k!lled
with your mouths open
tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin’
smokin’ dope, it’s like a sherm high
n-gg-s think they learned to fly
but they burn, motherf-cker, you deserve to die
talkin’ about you gettin’ money, but it’s funny to me
all you n-gg-s livin’ b-mmy while you f-ckin’ with me
i’m a self-made millionaire
thug livin’, 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!
now you tell me who won
i see them, they run, ha ha
they don’t wanna see us
whole junior m.a.f.i.a. clique dressin’ up tryna be us
how the f-ck they gonna be the mob
when we always on our job?
we millionaires
k!llin’ ain’t fair, but somebody gotta do it
oh yeah, mobb deep, you wanna f-ck with us?
you little young–ss motherf-ckers
don’t one of you n-gg-s got sickle-cell or somethin’?
you’re f-ckin’ with me, n-gg-
you f-ck around and have a seizure or a heart attack
you better back the f-ck up
before you get smacked the f-ck up
this is how we do it on our side
any of you n-gg-s from new york that wanna bring it, bring it!
but we ain’t singin’, we bringin’ drama
f-ck you and yo’ motherf-ckin’ 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-ckin’ 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-ckin’ 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-ckin’ thug life ridas
westside ’til we die!
out here in california, n-gg-, we warned ya
we’ll bomb on you motherf-ckers! we do our job!
you think you mob? n-gg-, we the motherf-ckin’ mob!
ain’t nothin’ but k!llas
and the real n-gg-s, all you motherf-ckers feel us
our sh-t goes triple and 4-quadruple
you n-gg-s laugh ’cause our staff got guns under their motherf-ckin’ belts
you know how it is: when we drop records, they felt
you n-gg-s can’t feel it, we the realest
f-ck ’em, we bad boy k!llas!

- tupac thug theory lyrics

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