YeahAyoI think y'all gonna like this next songWhen this song drops, I want all the West coast people to give up some love when this song come upY'all about to go crazyThey try to ban this songThey don't wanna play my songBut they want to play Fat Boy all goddamn day
Come on, come on (take money)Come on, come on (take money)What's up niggas
First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claimWestside when we ride come equipped with gameYou claim to be a player but I fucked your wifeWe bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for lifePlus Puffy tryin' ta see me weak hearts I ripBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. Some mark-ass bitchesWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewelsSteady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rulesLil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave yaCut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceasedLil' Kim, don't fuck around with real G'sQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peaceI let them niggaz know it's on for lifeSo let the Westside ride tonightBad Boy murdered on wax and killedFuck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see
Grab ya glocks, when you see TupacCall the cops, when you see Tupac, uhWho shot me, but ya punks didn't finishNow ya bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga, we hit em' up
Yes, yo, Outlaw to this mutherfucker (take money)West Coast, what's up? (take money)What's up
Get out the way yo, get out the way yoBiggie Smalls just got shotLittle Moo, pass the mac, and let me hit him in his backFrank White need to get spanked right, for settin' trapsLittle accident murderers, and I ain't never heard-a yaPoisinous gats attack when I'm servin' yaSpank ya shank ya whole style when I gankGuard your rank, 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paintPuffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin through niggaAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you niggaWith the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie BauerYa clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up
OhCall the cops, when you see TupacWho shot me, but ya punks didn't finishNow ya bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga, I hit em' up
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steelThis ain't no freestyle battleAll you niggaz gettin killed with ya mouths openTryin' to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin'Smokin dope it's like a sherm high niggaz think they learned to flyBut they burn motherfucker, you deserve to dieTalkin' bout you gettin' money but it's funny to meAll you niggaz livin' bummy, why you fuckin' with me?I'm a self made millionaireThug livin' out a prison, pistols in the airBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couchAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the houseNow it's all about Versace, you copied my styleFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiledNow I'm bout to set the record straightWith my A.K. I'm still the thug that you love to hateMotherfucker, I hit 'em up
I'm from N-E-W Jers'Where plenty of murders occursNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbsNow go check the scenarioLittle Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your kneesCopping pleas in de JaneiroLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked upWhat the fuck, is you stupid?I take money, crash and mash through BrooklynWith my click looting, shooting and polluting your blockWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knotOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notchAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and droppedAnd all your fake ass East coast propsBrainstormed and locked
You's a, beat biterA Pac style takerI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a fakerSofter than Alize with a chaserAbout to get murdered for the paperE.d.i Amin approach the scene of the caperLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a chokeGun totin' smoke. We ain't no motherfucking jokenigga, better be knownWe approaching in the wide open, gun smokingNo need for hoping, it's a battle lostI got em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping offNigga, I hit em up
Oh ohHahyeah
We hit 'em upGrab ya glocks, when you see TupacCome on with the next shitWho shot me, but ya punks didn't finishNow ya bout to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga, we hit em' up
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