Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

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

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

I'll let them niggas know it's on for
Don't let the west 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 when you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your didn't finish
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 just got dropped
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 heard of yah
less gats attack when I'm serving yah
Spank the shank, whole style when I gank
your rank, 'cause, I'ma slam your ass in a pang

Puffy weaker than a block, I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking junior mafia in of yah nigga
With the ready tucked in my guess
Under my EddieBower, tour clout sour
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, it's penitentiary
ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open, to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping dope

It's a Shermine, niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money, but funny to me
All you niggas living bummy, while you fucking 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 bitch to let you sleep in the

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

I'm from New Jers, plenty of murder occurs
No points to come, we bring drama to all you
Now go check the scenerio, Little
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 smoked up
the fuck? Is you stupid? Take money
Crash and mash through
With my looting, shooting, and polluting your block

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

You'se a B writer, Pac style
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing but a faker
So the alazhay with a chaser
'Bout to get for the paper
E D I, I mean post the of the caper
Like a loc, with little in a choke
Toting smoke, we ain't no joke

life, niggas better be known, be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking, no need for
It's a lost, I got 'em crossed
As as the funk is bopping 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