Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

First off, fuck bitch and the click you claim
West side when we ride, come equipped game
You claim to be a playa but, I fucked wife
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 coming while we for yah jewels
Steady gunning keep on busting at fools

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

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

Grab your glocks when you see
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 pacs the mac and let me hit 'em in his
Frank White needs to get right for setting up traps

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

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

Call the cops you see 2Pac
Who me, but your punks didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to the wrath of a menace
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 clouds hoping dope

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

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

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

I'm New Jers, where plenty 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 knees copin' pleas these

Kim is yah, choked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click up
the fuck? Is you stupid? Take money
Crash and mash through
my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block

With fifteen shot, cocked to your knot
Outlaw click moving up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and
And all your fake ass East 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 alazhay with a
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I mean post the of the caper
a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke
Toting smoke, we no muthafuckin' joke

Thug life, niggas better be known, be
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 punks finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a
Nigga, I hit 'em up