Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

You know the rules, Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll yah
Cut your ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Little Kim, don't fuck real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets, so 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 cops you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but punks didn't finish
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 Smalls just got
Little move pacs the mac and let me hit 'em in his
White needs to get spanked right for setting up traps

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 a fuckin' block, I'm running through 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 push packages hour, I hit 'em up

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

Peep how we do it, keep it real, penitentiary steel
This no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open, tryin' to up off of me
You and the clouds smoking dope

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

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

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

I'm from New Jers, where plenty of occurs
No points to come, we bring to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio, Ceas'
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
and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your

With fifteen shot, cocked glock to knot
mafia click moving up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get and dropped
And all your fake ass East Coast props, 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 a chaser
'Bout to get for the paper
E D I, I mean post the scene of the
Like a loc, with little in a choke
Toting smoke, we no muthafuckin' joke

Thug life, niggas be known, be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking, no for hoping
It's a battle lost, I got 'em
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 of a menace
Nigga, I hit 'em up