Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

First off, fuck your bitch and the click you
side when 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, tryin' to see me weak, hearts I rip
Biggie smalls and mafia, some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming 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 young ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Little Kim, don't with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ass off the streets, so fuck peace

I'll let them know it's on for life
let the west side ride the night
Bad boys on wax and kill
Fuck with me and get caps peeled
You what you see

Grab your glocks you see 2Pac
Call the cops you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your punks 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 just got dropped
move pacs the mac and let me hit 'em in his back
Frank needs to get spanked right for setting up traps

Little accident murderers and I never heard of yah
Poise less attack when I'm serving yah
Spank the shank, your whole when I gank
Guard your rank, 'cause, slam your ass in a pang

Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block, I'm running nigga
And I'm smoking junior mafia in front of yah
With the ready tucked in my guess
Under my EddieBower, tour clout petty
I push packages 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, it's penitentiary
ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting killed
With your 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 muthafucka you to die
about you getting money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy, you fucking with me

I'm a made millionaire thug, livin' 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 copied my
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and
Now, I'm back to set the record 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 murder
No points to come, we bring to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio, Ceas'
I'll you fake G's to yah knees copin' pleas with these

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

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

You'se a B writer, Pac taker
I'll you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker
So fill the alazhay a chaser
to get murdered for the paper
E D I, I mean post the scene of the
Like a loc, with Ceas' in a choke
smoke, we ain't no muthafuckin' joke

Thug life, niggas better be known, be
In the wide open, gun smoking, no need for
a battle 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 to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit 'em up