Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

First off, fuck bitch and the click you claim
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, Puffy to see me weak, hearts I rip
smalls and junior mafia, some mark ass bitches
We on coming while we running for yah jewels
Steady gunning keep on busting at fools

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

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

Grab glocks when you see 2Pac
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 right for setting up

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

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

Call the when you see 2Pac
Who shot me, but your punks didn't
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a
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

It's a Shermine, niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn muthafucka you to die
Talking you getting money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy, while you with me

I'm a self 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
Five shots drop me, I took it and smiled
Now, I'm back to set the straight with my AK
I'm the thug that you love to hate, muthafucka, I'll hit 'em up

I'm New Jers, where 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 copin' pleas with these

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

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

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

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