Lirik Lagu Hit 'Em Up - 2Pac
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TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
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- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
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Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friendsThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker(take money) West side!!Bad Boy killers(take money) You know the realest is niggaz(take money) We bring it to you(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claimWest side when we ride come equipped with gameYou claim to be a player but I fucked your wifeWe bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for lifePlus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I ripBiggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitchesWe keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewelssteady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rulesLittle Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave yacut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceasedLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G'sQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peaceI let them niggas know it's on for lifeSo let the West side ride tonight hahahahBad Boy murdered on wax, and killedFuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see TupacCall the cops, when you see Tupac, uhhWho shot me, but ya punks didn't finishNow ya bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it isI don't even know why I'm on this trackya'll nigguz ain't even on my levelI'ma let my little homies ride on youbitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yoBiggie Smallz just got droppedLittle Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his backFrank White need to get spanked right, for settin trackslittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a yaPoisinous gats attack when I'm servin yaSpank the shank ya whole style when I dankGuard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavementPuffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, niggaand, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, niggaWith the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauerya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hourand hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steelthis aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettinkilled with ya mouths opentryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopingsmokin dope it's like a sherm highNiggaz think they learned to flyBut they burned muthafucka, you deserve to dieTalkin bout you gettin money but its funny to meall you niggaz live in worry while you're fuckin with meI'm a self made milionareThug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahahaBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couchand beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahhNow its all about Versacci, you copied my styleFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiledNow I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AKI'm still the thug you love to hateMotherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occurNo points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbsKnuckle check the scenario, Little CeaseI bring you fake G's to your kneesCoppin pleas cuz this ain't your areaLil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuckis you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklynwith my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya blockwith 15 shots cock glock to your knotOutlaw mafia click movin up another notchAnd you bast stops squaws get mopped and droppedAll your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style takerI'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a fakerSofter than Alize with a chaserBout to get murdered for the paperIdi Amin approach the sceneWrite a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke holdTotin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin jokeThug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchinin the wide open, guns smokinno need for hopin its a battle lost, I got acrossSoon as the funk was poppin offNigga I hit em up
Outro: Tupac
Now you tell me who wonI see them, they runThey don't wanna see usWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be usHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our jobWe millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do itOh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?You little young ass motherfuckersDon't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?You fuckin with me nigga you fuck aroundand have a seizure or a heart-attackYou better back the fuck up, fore you get smacked the fuck upThat's how we do it on our sideAny of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring itBut we ain't singin, we bringin dramaFuck you and your motherfuckin mamaWe gonna kill all you motherfuckersNow when I came out I told you it was just about BiggieThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin opinionWell this how we gonna do thisFuck Mobb DeepFuck BiggieFuck Bad Boy as a staff record labeland as a motherfuckin crewAnd if you wanna be down with Bad BoyThen fuck you tooChino XL, fuck you tooAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too
(take money)(take money)Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfuckerMy fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't growYou motherfuckers can't be us or see usWe the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckersWe do our jobYou think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mobAin't nuttin but killers and the real niggazAll you motherfuckers feel usOur shit's going triple and four-quadruple(take money)You niggaz blast as our staff got guns at theymotherfuckers back, you know how it isWhen we drop records they feel itYou niggaz can't feel itWe the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*
I ain't got no motherfuckin friendsThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker(take money) West side!!Bad Boy killers(take money) You know the realest is niggaz(take money) We bring it to you(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claimWest side when we ride come equipped with gameYou claim to be a player but I fucked your wifeWe bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for lifePlus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I ripBiggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitchesWe keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewelssteady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rulesLittle Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave yacut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceasedLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G'sQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peaceI let them niggas know it's on for lifeSo let the West side ride tonight hahahahBad Boy murdered on wax, and killedFuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see TupacCall the cops, when you see Tupac, uhhWho shot me, but ya punks didn't finishNow ya bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it isI don't even know why I'm on this trackya'll nigguz ain't even on my levelI'ma let my little homies ride on youbitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yoBiggie Smallz just got droppedLittle Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his backFrank White need to get spanked right, for settin trackslittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a yaPoisinous gats attack when I'm servin yaSpank the shank ya whole style when I dankGuard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavementPuffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, niggaand, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, niggaWith the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauerya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hourand hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steelthis aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettinkilled with ya mouths opentryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopingsmokin dope it's like a sherm highNiggaz think they learned to flyBut they burned muthafucka, you deserve to dieTalkin bout you gettin money but its funny to meall you niggaz live in worry while you're fuckin with meI'm a self made milionareThug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahahaBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couchand beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahhNow its all about Versacci, you copied my styleFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiledNow I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AKI'm still the thug you love to hateMotherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occurNo points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbsKnuckle check the scenario, Little CeaseI bring you fake G's to your kneesCoppin pleas cuz this ain't your areaLil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuckis you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklynwith my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya blockwith 15 shots cock glock to your knotOutlaw mafia click movin up another notchAnd you bast stops squaws get mopped and droppedAll your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style takerI'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a fakerSofter than Alize with a chaserBout to get murdered for the paperIdi Amin approach the sceneWrite a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke holdTotin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin jokeThug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchinin the wide open, guns smokinno need for hopin its a battle lost, I got acrossSoon as the funk was poppin offNigga I hit em up
Outro: Tupac
Now you tell me who wonI see them, they runThey don't wanna see usWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be usHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our jobWe millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do itOh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?You little young ass motherfuckersDon't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?You fuckin with me nigga you fuck aroundand have a seizure or a heart-attackYou better back the fuck up, fore you get smacked the fuck upThat's how we do it on our sideAny of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring itBut we ain't singin, we bringin dramaFuck you and your motherfuckin mamaWe gonna kill all you motherfuckersNow when I came out I told you it was just about BiggieThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin opinionWell this how we gonna do thisFuck Mobb DeepFuck BiggieFuck Bad Boy as a staff record labeland as a motherfuckin crewAnd if you wanna be down with Bad BoyThen fuck you tooChino XL, fuck you tooAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too
(take money)(take money)Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfuckerMy fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't growYou motherfuckers can't be us or see usWe the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckersWe do our jobYou think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mobAin't nuttin but killers and the real niggazAll you motherfuckers feel usOur shit's going triple and four-quadruple(take money)You niggaz blast as our staff got guns at theymotherfuckers back, you know how it isWhen we drop records they feel itYou niggaz can't feel itWe the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*
