I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends.
That'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: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claim.
West side when we ride come equipped with game.
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife.
We bust on Bad Boyz niggaz fucked for life.
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak hearts I rip.
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. are some mark ass bitches.
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for ya jewels,
steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at the fools, you know the rules.
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave 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.
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah.
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed.
Fuck with me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
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, I hit em' up...
Interlude: 2Pac
Check this out, you mutha fuckaz 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'm a let my little homies ride on you.
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal withh it!!
Verse Two: Hussein 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' tracks,
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard ya.
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya.
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank.
Guard your rank, cause I'm slam you in the pavement.
Puffy weaker that a fuckin' rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga.
With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up.
Chorus: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
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, I hit em' up...
Verse Three: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin'
killed withh ya mouths open,
Tryin' to come up off me, you in the clouds hopin'.
Smokin' dope it's like a sherm high.
Niggaz think they learned to fly
but they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die.
Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money, but its funny to me.
All you niggaz livin' bummy, while you fuckin' with me.
I'm a self made millionaire!
Thug Livin' out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha.
Biggie, you remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh!
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 you love to hate.
Motherfucker, I hit em up!
Verse Four: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur.
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs.
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees.
Coppin' please cuz this ain't your area.
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 you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped.
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Five: Idi Amin
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker.
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker.
Softer than Alize with a chaser.
'Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene.
Write a 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, gunz smokin'.
No need for hopin' its a battle lost, I got across.
Soon as the funk was poppin off.
Nigga I hit em up!
Outro: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
Now you tell me who won.
I see them, they run, hahaha.
They don't wanna see us.
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin' to be us.
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job.
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it.
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep,huh you wanna fuck withh us?
You little young ass motherfuckers!
Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You fuckin' with me nigga you fuck around
and have a seizure or a heart-attack!
You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up!
That's how we do it on our side.
Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring it.
But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin' mama
We gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth for a motherfuckin' opinion.
Well this how we gonna do this:
Fuck Mobb Deep
Fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record label
and as a motherfuckin' crew!
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy
Then fuck you too!
Chino XL, fuck you too!
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too!
(take money)
(take money)
All y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker.
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kidz don't grow!
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We the motherfuckin' Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers.
We do our job
You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers and the real niggaz.
All you motherfuckers feel us.
Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple.
(take money)
You niggaz blast as our staff got gunz under they
motherfuckers belts, you know how it is.
When we drop records they feel it
You niggaz can't feel it
We the realest, FUCK 'EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*!!!
That'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: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claim.
West side when we ride come equipped with game.
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife.
We bust on Bad Boyz niggaz fucked for life.
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak hearts I rip.
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. are some mark ass bitches.
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for ya jewels,
steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at the fools, you know the rules.
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave 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.
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah.
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed.
Fuck with me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
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, I hit em' up...
Interlude: 2Pac
Check this out, you mutha fuckaz 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'm a let my little homies ride on you.
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal withh it!!
Verse Two: Hussein 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' tracks,
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard ya.
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya.
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank.
Guard your rank, cause I'm slam you in the pavement.
Puffy weaker that a fuckin' rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga.
With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up.
Chorus: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
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, I hit em' up...
Verse Three: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin'
killed withh ya mouths open,
Tryin' to come up off me, you in the clouds hopin'.
Smokin' dope it's like a sherm high.
Niggaz think they learned to fly
but they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die.
Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money, but its funny to me.
All you niggaz livin' bummy, while you fuckin' with me.
I'm a self made millionaire!
Thug Livin' out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha.
Biggie, you remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh!
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 you love to hate.
Motherfucker, I hit em up!
Verse Four: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur.
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs.
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees.
Coppin' please cuz this ain't your area.
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 you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped.
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Five: Idi Amin
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker.
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker.
Softer than Alize with a chaser.
'Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene.
Write a 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, gunz smokin'.
No need for hopin' its a battle lost, I got across.
Soon as the funk was poppin off.
Nigga I hit em up!
Outro: 2Pac a.k.a. Makaveli
Now you tell me who won.
I see them, they run, hahaha.
They don't wanna see us.
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin' to be us.
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job.
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it.
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep,huh you wanna fuck withh us?
You little young ass motherfuckers!
Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You fuckin' with me nigga you fuck around
and have a seizure or a heart-attack!
You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up!
That's how we do it on our side.
Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring it.
But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin' mama
We gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth for a motherfuckin' opinion.
Well this how we gonna do this:
Fuck Mobb Deep
Fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record label
and as a motherfuckin' crew!
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy
Then fuck you too!
Chino XL, fuck you too!
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too!
(take money)
(take money)
All y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker.
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kidz don't grow!
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We the motherfuckin' Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers.
We do our job
You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers and the real niggaz.
All you motherfuckers feel us.
Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple.
(take money)
You niggaz blast as our staff got gunz under they
motherfuckers belts, you know how it is.
When we drop records they feel it
You niggaz can't feel it
We the realest, FUCK 'EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*!!!
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