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[Tupac] So I fucked your bitch You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money} Tupac West Side Bad Boy Killers {Take Money} You know who the realist is Hit Niggas we bring it to {Take Money} [ha ha, that's alright] Em First off, fuck your bitch And the click you claim West side when we ride Up Come equipped with game You claim to be a playa But, I fucked your wife feat We bust on Bad Boys Niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Outlawz Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches Songtexte We keep on coming While we running for yah jewels Steady gunning Songtext Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie Lyrics How i'll leave yah Cut your young ass up See yah in pieces Lyric Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck with real ass G's Liedertexte Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace Liedertext I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Alle Don't let the west side Ride the night [ha ha] Tupac Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill Fuck with me And get your caps peeled Hit You know, See [Chorus] Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Em Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Who shot me, Up But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace feat Nigga, I hit 'em up Check this out You mutha-fuckas know what time it is Outlawz I don't know why I'm even on this track Songtexte Y'all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Songtext Ride on yah Bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up} Lyrics Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Lyric Little move pass the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Liedertexte Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Liedertext Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of yah Alle Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah Spank the shank Tupac Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Hit Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga Em And I'm smoking Junior Mafia In front of yah nigga Up With the ready power Tucked in my Guess Under my Eddie Bower feat Your clout petty sour I push packages ever hour I hit 'em up Outlawz [Chorus] Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh Songtexte Who shot me, But, your punks didn't finish Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace Songtext Nigga, We hit 'em up Peep how we do it Keep it real Lyrics Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed Lyric With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me Liedertexte You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine Liedertext Niggas think they learned to fly But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die Alle Talking about you Getting Money But its funny to me All you niggas living bummy Tupac While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Hit Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} [Ha Ha] Em Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch Up And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house feat Now its all about verses You copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me Outlawz I took it and smiled Now I'm back to set the record straight Songtexte With my A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Songtext Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up I'm from N W New Jers. Lyrics Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Lyric Now go check the scenerio Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees Liedertexte Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Liedertext Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the fuck? Alle Is you stupid? I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn Tupac With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Hit Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch Em And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Up Brainstormed and locked You'se a B-writer Pac style taker feat I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker Outlawz So fill the Alazhay with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper Songtexte E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Songtext Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke [uhh] Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke Lyrics Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking Lyric No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off Liedertexte Nigga, I hit 'em up Now you tell me who won Liedertext I see them, they run [ha ha] They don't wanna see us Alle Whole Junior Mafia click Dressing up to be us How the fuck they gonna be the Mob? Tupac When we always on out job We millionaire's Killing ain't fair Hit But somebody got to do it Oh yah Mobb Deep [uhh] Em You wanna fuck with us You Little young ass mutha-fuckas Up Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something feat You fucking with me, nigga ? You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack Outlawz You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up Songtexte This is how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, Songtext Bring it. But we ain't singing, We bringing drama Fuck you and your mother fucking mama. Lyrics We gonna kill all you mother fuckers. Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie. Lyric Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion Liedertexte Well this is how we gon' do this: Fuck Mobb Deep, Liedertext Fuck Biggie, Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew. Alle And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, Then fuck you too. Tupac Chino XL, fuck you too. All you mother fuckers, Fuck you too. Hit (take money, take money) All of y'all mother fuckers, Fuck you, die slow mother fucker. Em My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow. Up You mother fuckers can't be us or see us. We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders. feat West Side till' we die. Out here in California, nigga We warned ya' Outlawz We'll bomb on you mother fuckers. We do our job. Songtexte You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob Songtext Ain't nuttin' but killers And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us. Lyrics Our shit goes triple and four quadruple You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts Lyric You know how it is and we drop records they felt Liedertexte You niggas can't feel it We the realist Fuck 'em. Liedertext We Bad Boy killas



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