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Tupac Hit Em Up LYRICS That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker (take money) WEESSSSSSTTTTIIIIIDE!! Bad Boy killers You know (you know) who the realest is niggaz We bring it to you (take money) Verse One: Tupac First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claim WESTSIDE when we ride come equipped with game You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife We bust on Bad Boy niggas fuck for life Plus Puffy tryna see me weak hearts I rip Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules Little Caeser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya cut your young ass up, see you in pieces, now be deceased Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha streetz, so fuck peace I let them niggas know it's on for life Don't let the West side ride the night (haha) Bad Boys murdered on wax, and killed Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know, see... Chorus: Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, we hit em' up... Interlude: Tupac Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is I don't even know why I'm on this track ya'll niggaz ain't even on my level I'ma let my lil homies ride on you bitch made-ass bad boy bitches, deal with it!! Verse Two: Fatal Get out the way yo, get out the way yo Biggie Smallz just got dropped Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin traps little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya Poiseless gats attack when I'm servin ya spank the shank ya whole style when I gank Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam ya ass in the pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin block i'm running through nigga and, I'll smoking junior mafia in front of you, nigga With the ready power tuckin my Gats under my Eddie Bauer ya clout, petty sour I push packages every hour I hit em up Chorus Verse Three: Tupac Peep to peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin killed with ya mouths open tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping smokin dope it's like a shermine Niggaz think they learned to fly But they burn muthafucka, you deserve to die Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me all you niggaz livin bummy why you fuckin with me I'm a self-made millionaire Thug Livin outta prison, pistols in the air,(hahaha) Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house,(ha) Now its all about Versace, you copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate Motherfucker, I hit em up Verse Four: Kadafi I'm from N-E-W Jerz., where plenty murders occurz No point to come, we bringin drama to all you heardz Local check the scenario, Little Caes' I bring you fake G's to your knees Coppin pleas to 'De Janeiro' Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up? Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block with 15 shots cock glock to your knot Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch And your pop stars mopped and dropped All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked Verse Five: Edi Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker I'll tell it to ya face u aint shit but a faker Softer than Aliz-A with a chaser Bout to get murdered for the paper E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin in the wide open, guns smokin no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across Soon as the funk was bobbin off Nigga I hit em up