Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

First off, fuck bitch and the click you claim
West side when we ride, come equipped game
You claim to be a playa but, I fucked 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 while we running for yah
Steady gunning keep on busting at fools

You know the rules, Little Ceasar go ask you how I'll leave yah
Cut young ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Kim, don't fuck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace

I'll let them niggas it's on for life
Don't let the side ride the night
Bad murdered on wax and kill
Fuck with me and get your caps
You what you see

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

Little accident murderers and I ain't heard of yah
Poise less attack when I'm serving yah
the shank, your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, 'cause, I'ma your ass in a pang

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

Call the cops you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but 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
This ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting
With your mouths open, to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping dope

like a Shermine, niggas think they learned to fly
But they muthafucka you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money, but funny to me
All you niggas bummy, while you fucking with me

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

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

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

Little Kim is yah, choked up or up
Get your Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the Is you stupid? Take money
and mash through Brooklyn
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 alazhay a chaser
'Bout to get for the paper
E D I, I mean the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little in a choke
Toting smoke, we no muthafuckin' joke

Thug life, better be known, be approaching
In the open, gun smoking, no need for hoping
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