Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

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

You know the rules, Little Ceasar go ask you homie how leave yah
Cut your ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Little Kim, fuck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets, so fuck

I'll let them niggas know it's on for
Don't let the side ride the night
Bad boys on wax and kill
Fuck with me and get caps peeled
You what you see

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

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

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

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

Call the cops 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

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

It's like a Shermine, niggas think they to fly
But they muthafucka you deserve to die
about you getting money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy, 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 sleep on the
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the

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

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

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

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

a B writer, Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a
So fill the alazhay with a
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a
Toting smoke, we ain't no joke

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

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