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2Pac – Hit Em Up Lyrics

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Read Time:4 Minute, 24 Second

We, the, Outlawz Prison in America
Yeah, If you think theres no justice, think again
Hey yo. I think yall gonna like this next song
I think they do

When this song drop, yall gots to go crazy
I want all the West Coast people to give up some love
When this song come on Yall got to go crazy
They tried to ban this song Everybody

They dont wanna play my song
But they wanna play fat boy over here
What? Come on, come on Take money
Come on, come on Take money
Come on, come on Whats up

First off, f- and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life

Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches
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 Ill leave ya
Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, dont f- around with real Gs
Quick to snatch yo off the streets, so f- peace

Ill let them n- know its on for life
Dont let the Westside ride tonight ha ha ha
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
F- 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 didnt finish
Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace
N-, I hit em up! Yes, yo aha, Outlawz ey

Check this out
West Coast, West fo life, whats up, hit me

Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got shot
Little Moo, pass the MAC
And let me hit him in his back

Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin traps
Little accident murderer
And I aint never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when Im servin ya

Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank cause Ima slam your a- in the paint
P- weaker than the f- block Im runnin through, n-
And Im smokin Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-

With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
I push packages every hour, I hit em up!

When you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But you punks didnt finish
Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, say what?

Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This aint no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin killed
With your mouths open
Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin

Smokin dope, its like a sherm high
N- think they learned to fly
But they burn, you deserve to die
Talkin about you gettin money, but its funny to me

All you n- livin bummy, why you f- with me?
Im 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 bitch to let you sleep in the house?
Now its all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldnt drop me, I took it and smiled
Now Im back to set the record straight

With my AK, Im still the thug that you love to hate

Im from N-E-W Jers where plenty of murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario Lil Cease
Ill bring you fake Gs to your knees, coppin pleas in de Janeiro

Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the, is you stupid
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my click lootin, shootin and pollutin your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique movin up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked

Yous a beat biter, a Pac style taker
Ill tell you to your face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
About to get murdered for the paper

E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Little Ceas in a choke
Gun totin smoke, we aint no motherfuckin joke
Better be knowin
We approachin in the wide open, gun smokin

No need for hopin, its a battle lost
I got em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin off
I hit em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah
We hit em up
Grab your glocks when you see Tupac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But you punks didnt finish
Now you bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Hit em up, thats right!

Take money, take money