Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

Well, come on, come on, money
Come on, on, take money
Come on, come on, nigga?

First off, fuck bitch and the click you claim
West when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a playa but, I fucked wife
We bust on bad boys, niggas for life

Plus, Puffy tryin' to see me weak, I rip
Biggie smalls and junior mafia, some ass bitches
We on coming while we running for yah jewels
gunning keep on busting at them fools

You know the rules, Little go ask you homie how I'll leave yah
Cut young ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Kim, don't fuck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ass off the streets, so fuck peace

I'll let niggas know it's on for life
let the west side ride the night
Bad boys murdered on wax and
Fuck with me and get your peeled
You what you see

Grab your when you see 2Pac
Call the when you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your punks didn't
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a
Nigga, I hit 'em up

Get out the way yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got
Little move the mac and let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get right for setting up traps

Little murderers and I ain't never heard of yah
Poise less gats attack when I'm yah
Spank the shank, your whole when I gank
Guard your rank, 'cause, I'ma slam your ass in a

Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block, I'm running nigga
And I'm junior mafia in front of yah nigga
With the ready power tucked in my
Under my EddieBower, tour clout petty
I packages every hour, I hit 'em up

Call the cops when you see
Who shot me, but your punks finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the of a menace
Nigga, I hit 'em up

Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's steel
This ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggas killed
With your mouths open, tryin' to up off of me
You and the hoping smoking dope

like a Shermine, niggas think they learned to fly
But they muthafucka you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money, but it's to me
All you niggas living bummy, while you with me

I'm a self made millionaire thug, out of prison, pistols in the air
Biggie, remember when I use to let you on the couch
And beg the to let you sleep in the house

Now, it's all about Versace, you my style
Five shots couldn't me, I took it and smiled
Now, I'm back to set the record straight my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate, muthafucka, I'll hit 'em up

I'm from New Jers, where of murder occurs
No to come, we bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio, Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to yah copin' pleas with these

Little Kim is yah, up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper smoked up
What the fuck? Is you Take money
and mash through Brooklyn
With my looting, shooting, and polluting your block

fifteen shot, cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw click moving up another notch
And your pop stars and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass East Coast props, brainstormed and

You'se a B writer, Pac style
tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker
So fill the with a chaser
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I mean post the scene of the
Like a loc, with Ceas' in a choke
Toting smoke, we ain't no joke

Thug life, niggas better be known, be
In the wide open, gun smoking, no need for
a battle lost, I got 'em crossed
As as the funk is bopping off, nigga, I hit 'em up

Who shot me, but your punks finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a
Nigga, I hit 'em up