Hit 'em Up

I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker (Take Money)
West Side Bad Boy Killers (Take Money)
You know who the realist is niggas we bring it to (Take Money)
(ha ha, that's alright)

First off, fuck your bitch and the clique 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 Boys niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy trying to see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming while we running for your jewels
Steady gunning keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up see you in pieces now be deceased
Little Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets so fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know it's on for Life
Don't let the west side ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me
And get your caps peeled you know, see

Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see tupac, uh
Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish
Now you bought to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up

(Check this out) You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
(ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up)

Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps
Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fucking block I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia in front of you nigga
With the ready power tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour, I hit 'em up

Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see tupac, uh
Who shot me, but your punks didn't finish
Now you bought to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up

Peep how we do it, keep it real
Its penitentiary steel, this ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open
Trying to come up off of me you in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope, it's like a Sherm high niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money but it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire thug living, out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight with my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker I'll Hit 'Em Up

I'm from N E W Jers where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come we bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceasar I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Copping please in de Janeiro
Little Kim is you coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the fuck? Is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot, cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass east coast props brainstormed and locked

You's a beat biter Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser bought to get murdered for the paper
E.D. I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceasar in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching in the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping it's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off, nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia clique dressing up trying to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job we millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it

Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're fucking with me, nigga?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, bring it
But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
Fuck you and your mother fucking mama
We're gonna kill all you mother fuckers
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fucking opinion
Well this is how we gonna do this:
Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie,
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fucking crew
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too
Chino XL, fuck you too
All you mother fuckers, fuck you too (take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker
My four four make sure all your kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We mother fucking Thug Life riders
West Side till we die out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
We'll bomb on you mother fuckers, we do our job
You think you the mob, nigga, we the motherfucking mob
Ain't nothing but killers and the real niggas All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and four quadruple (take money)
You niggas laugh cause our staff got guns under they motherfucking belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it we the realist
Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers.