Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

Plus, Puffy to see me weak, hearts I rip
Biggie smalls and junior mafia, mark ass bitches
We keep on while we running for yah jewels
Steady gunning 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 them niggas know on for life
Don't let the west ride the night
Bad boys murdered on wax and
Fuck me and get your caps peeled
You know you see

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's like a Shermine, niggas think learned to fly
But they burn muthafucka you to die
Talking about you money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas bummy, while you fucking with me

I'm a made millionaire thug, livin' 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 copied my
Five shots couldn't me, I took it and smiled
Now, I'm to set the record straight with my AK
I'm still the that you love to hate, muthafucka, I'll hit 'em up

I'm New Jers, where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come, we bring drama to all you
Now go the scenerio, Little 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
Crash and mash Brooklyn
my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block

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

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

Thug life, better be known, be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking, no for hoping
It's a lost, I got 'em crossed
As soon as the funk is off, nigga, I hit 'em up

Who shot me, but your didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a
Nigga, I hit 'em up