Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

First off, fuck your bitch and the click you
side 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, tryin' to see me weak, hearts I rip
Biggie and junior mafia, some mark ass bitches
We on coming while we running for yah jewels
Steady keep on busting at them fools

You know the rules, Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll yah
Cut your young ass up, see yah in pieces, now be
Little Kim, don't 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
let the west side ride the night
Bad boys on wax and kill
with me and get your caps peeled
You know you see

Grab glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops you see 2Pac
Who me, but your punks didn't finish
Now, you to feel the wrath 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 for setting up traps

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

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

Call the when you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your punks 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
This no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open, to come up off of me
You and the hoping smoking dope

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

I'm a self made millionaire thug, livin' out of prison, 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 about Versace, you my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I it and smiled
Now, I'm back to set the straight with 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 the scenerio, Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees copin' pleas with

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

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

a B writer, Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing but a faker
So fill the with a chaser
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I mean post the of the caper
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 lost, I got 'em crossed
As soon as the funk is off, nigga, I hit 'em up

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