Luyện nghe bài hát Hit Em Up Part 2

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

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

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

You know the rules, Little Ceasar go ask you homie how I'll yah
Cut your ass up, see yah in pieces, now be deceased
Kim, don't fuck 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 me and get your caps peeled
You what you see

Grab your glocks when you see
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

Get out the way yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls got dropped
Little move the mac and let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get right for setting up traps

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

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

Call the when you see 2Pac
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 penitentiary
ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open, tryin' to up off of me
You and the clouds hoping dope

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

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

Now, it's all Versace, you copied my style
Five couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled
Now, I'm to set the record straight 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 occurs
No points to come, we bring drama to all you
Now go the scenerio, Little Ceas'
I'll you fake G's to yah knees copin' pleas with these

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

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

You'se a B writer, Pac style
I'll tell you to face, you ain't shit but a faker
So fill the with a chaser
'Bout to get murdered for the
E D I, I post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little in a choke
Toting smoke, we ain't no muthafuckin'

Thug life, niggas be known, be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking, no need for
It's a battle lost, I got 'em
As soon as the 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