Song：Hit 'Em Up

Intro：Tupac

I ain't got no motherf**kin friends

That's why I f**ked yo' b***h you fat motherf**ker

Take money

West side

Bad Boy killers

Take money

You know the realest is n***az

Take money

We bring it to you

Take money

Verse One：Tupac

First off f**k your b***h and the click you claim

West side when we ridee equipped with game

You claim to be a player but I f**ked your wife

We bust on Bad Boy n***az f**ked for life

Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smallz and Junior M A F I A some mark a*s b***hes

We keep onin' 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 a*s up leave you in pieces now be deceased

Lil Kim don't f**k around with real G's

Quick to snatch yo' ugly a*s off tha street so f**k peace

I let them n***as know it's on for life

So let the West side ride tonight hahahah

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

F**k wit' me and get ya caps peeled you know see

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

N***a I hit 'em up

Interlude：Tupac

Check this out you muthaf**kas know what time it is

I don't even know why I'm on this track

Ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level

I'ma let my little homies ride on you

B***h made a*s bad boy b***hes deal with it

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 a ya

Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya

Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank

Guard your rank cause I'ma slam you in the pavement

Puffy weaker that a f**kin rocka wanna do n***a

And I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you n***a

With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer

Ya clout pretty sour I get packages every hour

And hit em up

Verse Three：Tupac

Peep how we do it keep it real it's penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle all you n***az gettin

Killed with ya mouths open

Tryin toe up offa me you in the clouds hoping

Smokin d**e it's like a sherm high

N***az think they learned to fly

But they burned muthaf**ka you deserve to die

Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me

All you n***az living bummy while you f**kin' wit me

I'm a self made milionare

Thug Livin out a prison pistols in the air hahaha

Biggie remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch

And beg the b***h to let you sleep in the house ahh

Now its all about Versacci 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

Motherf**ker I hit em up

Verse Four：

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 pleas cuz this ain't your area

Lil Kim is you coked up or d**ed up

Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up what the f**k

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 a*s east coast props brainstormed and locked

Verse Four：

Youse a beat biter a Pac style taker

I'll tell you to ya face you ain't s**t 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 ain't no muthaf**kin joke

Thug Life n***az 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 poppin off

N***a I hit em up

Outro：Tupac

Now you tell me who won

I see them they run

They don't wanna see us

Whole Junior M A F I A click dressin up tryin ta be us

How the f**k 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 you wanna f**k with us

You little young a*s motherf**kers

Don't one of you n***az got sickle cell or somethin

You f**kin with me n***a you f**k around

And have a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the f**k up fore you get smacked the f**k up

That's how we do it on our side

Any of you n***az from New York that wanna bring it bring it

But we ain't singin we bringin drama

F**k you and your motherf**kin mama

We gonna kill all you motherf**kers

Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie

Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherf**kin opinion

Well this how we gonna do this

F**k Mobb Deep

F**k Biggie

F**k Bad Boy as a staff record label

And as a motherf**kin crew

And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy

Then f**k you too

Chino XL f**k you too

All you motherf**kers f**k you too

Take money

Take money

Alla y'all motherf**kers f**k you die slow motherf**ker

My fo' fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow

You motherf**kers can't be us or see us

We the motherf**kin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die

Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherf**kers

We do our job

You think you mob n***a we the motherf**kin mob

Ain't nuttin but killers and the real n***az

All you motherf**kers feel us

Our s**t's going triple and four quadruple

Take money

You n***az blast as our staff got guns at they

Motherf**kers back you know how it is

When we drop records they feel it

You n***az can't feel it

We the realest F**K EM we Bad Boy killin *echoes*