Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

Plus, tryin' to see me weak, hearts I rip
Biggie smalls and junior mafia, some mark ass
We keep on coming we running 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 young ass up, see yah in pieces, now be
Little Kim, fuck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ass off the streets, so fuck peace

let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the west side ride the
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 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 just got dropped
Little pacs the mac and let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right for up traps

Little accident murderers and I ain't never of yah
Poise 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 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, clout petty sour
I push packages hour, I hit 'em up

Call the cops when you see
Who me, but your 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, it's steel
This 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 they to fly
But they burn you deserve to die
about you getting money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy, while you fucking 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 bitch to let you sleep in the

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

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

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

With fifteen shot, cocked to your knot
Outlaw click moving up another notch
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 shit but a faker
So fill the alazhay a chaser
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I mean the scene of the caper
a loc, with 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 as the funk is bopping off, nigga, I hit 'em up

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