Hit Em Up

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 who the realest is niggaz we bring it to you (take money) (Take money) 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 niggaz fucked for life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. Some mark-ass bitches We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels Steady gunnin, keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules Lil' 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 the streets, so fuck peace I let them niggaz know it's on for life So let the Westside ride tonight Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed Fuck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga, I hit em' up Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is (take money) I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money) Y'all niggaz ain't even on my level I'mma let my little homies ride on you (take money) Bitch made-ass bad boy bitches deal with it! Get out the way yo, get out the way yo Biggie Smalls 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 murderers, and I ain't never heard-a ya Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank Guard your rank, 'cause I'mma slam your ass in the paint Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin through nigga And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. In front of you nigga With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer Ya clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish Now ya 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace Nigga, I hit em' up Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggaz gettin' killed with ya mouths open Tryin' to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin' Smokin' dope it's like a sherm high niggaz think they learned to fly But they burn motherfucker, you deserve to die Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me All you niggaz livin' bummy why you fuckin' with me? I'm a self made millionaire Thug livin' out a prison, pistols in the air Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch And beg a 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 'bout to set the record straight With my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate Motherfucker, I hit 'em up I'm 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 Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your knees Copping pleas in de Janeiro Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up? Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck, is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click looting, shooting and polluting your block With a 15-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 A Pac style taker I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker Softer than Alize with a chaser About to get murdered for the paper E.D.I Amin approach the scene of the caper Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke Gun totin' 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 got em 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 They don't wanna see us (take money) Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. Clique Dressing up trying to be us (take money) How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money) We millionaires Killing ain't fair but somebody got to do it (take money) Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (take money) you wanna fuck with us You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money) Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something (take money) You fucking with me, nigga you fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money) 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 motherfucking mama We're 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 with a motherfucking 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 motherfucking crew And if you want to 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 of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow, motherfucker My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow You motherfuckers can't be us or see us We motherfuckin' Thug Life-riders, Westside 'til we die Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya We'll bomb on you motherfuckers. We do our job You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob Ain't nothing but killers and the real niggas All you motherfuckers feel us Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple (Take money) You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got Guns under they motherfuckin' belts You know how it is, when we drop records they felt You niggas can't feel it, we the realest Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy-killers