Artist Name: # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Song Title: # A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

2pac - Hit 'em Up Part Ii Lyrics

[Intro: Tupac]
Friends? - what y'all niggaz talking about?
Hell yeah, I'ma do this motherfucking track (Right)
And they know exactly who I'm talking about (Who?)
To you old; bitch made niggaz

[Verse One: Tupac]
Cause uhh.. niggaz talk plenty of shit, so many tricks
I've fucked your bitch cause I'm true to this
Witness the hit, you talked bad about a nigga when I got blasted
Hope you made a little money while the funk lasted
Heard they call you Big Poppa, nigga how you figure?
Cause to me you're always be a phoney fat nigga
I can't be copy or even wear my Versace
Nigga you wanna run, scared as fuck
the guns are bust, now niggaz duck
I got a list of player haters to fade
You bitch niggaz getting blown away
You're cross eyed damn syndrome crack baby
So you and Puffy is tough, no, that's crazy
I got your ass in my sight, niggaz dying tonight
We're screaming; WEST SIDE for life
And I can't wait to see you niggaz in traffic
Cause we're gonna get them up (Ha ha ha)
When you see me you better bust, cause I'ma hit them up

[Chorus: Tupac]
Hey Biggie grab your glocks when you see Tupac
HUH! call the cops when you see Tupac
HUH! Who shot me? - but you punks didn't finish
Now you're about to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, we hit them up

[Verse Two: Napoleon]
It's hard to explain; this wasn't my thing when I was younger
Look for my shit, I swear to God;
I leave you stick just to make you come up
Niggaz run up, cause more murder for the money
Got caught up trying to make a harder record
Should have been on technique, cause I bet you, and it's for life
You'll never gonna see a nigga like me wanting a battle up on T.V.
I'd rather release some of these
And put a slug to you buster ass niggaz then continue to squeeze
I got some niggaz back in Jersey, that rather be jacking cars
And robbing bitch niggaz like y'all for emergency
Let's take it back to the West Side, them niggaz sure gonna be riders
And plus we're Thug Life niggaz so call us Multiple-Pac
Finger on the trigger, bitches standing by us
But we don't trust them
And they might be the first that we're gonna bust on
Just label me a Bad Boy Killer, you Mobb Deep bitches gonna feel us
When we turn into killers and hit them up

[Verse Three: E.D.I Amin]
Now, it's this big B-K all day
Ain't no blooding, ain't no cribing
Strictly Bad Boy killer, shoot that ass like a squealer
Now let this motherfucker top down, I'm finna drop rounds
Letting his cells pop out then I hop out, sending him shout out
Shooting my shit to all the list quote
What's up to the riders in L.A., Long Beach on up to the East Oak
Supernatural, Cee Low, Circle, this is your virtual
The beat slit the rest wood like Charles Smith it turned you purple
Wanted to complain, for being enemies to the game
Would get that ass tamed, simple and plain, y'all know the name
Dramas, riders, through the whole line up
Niggaz get tired up, got fall before they can flow
To be mobbing through their hoods slow
No need for running cause we don't give a fuck
Beside we're funky bound, we got to hit their ass-on up

[Verse Four: Fatal Hussein]
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got shot, and I'm a true nickel storming
Niggaz hate your fat ass in California
I catch you on any East Coast corner, and you'se a goner
Puffy weaker than the fucking
block, I'm running at you nigga
And I'll smoke your Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you nigga
With the Ready Power, tucking my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour, I push packages every hour
My son is passing on over slapping nickels on glass forties
So hand me the cash, you laid on the ave, well that's your ass shorty
I got a team to sell more bottles than soda
Move my ears like Yoda, quick as a cobra and never sober

[Verse Five: Yaki Khadafi]
I'm on a twelve O'clock cruise to Brooklyn
And I'm looking for the turtle's in your borough
Ready to get his life token
So where your killers at, you fatty trick?
Don't let me to leave your coward ass stripped
And a full clip empty in your stomach
Used it all, yeah nigga, run it
Popping all you cowards that's been jacking a nigga behind the judo
It's just about made it an impossible to escape
Another emergency visits to the hospital
I can't wait meet up with all you bitches in the streets
So I can leave all you cowards sleeking in your fucking seats
When we hit them up

[Verse Six: Storm]
If you're big bad motherfucker, come step to this
I got points in the clips, and warrants of the clips
Who wanna test that, little the one, two, three pounder?
Bound to get their ass put under
Cause the Storm; is bringing nothing but thunder (That's right)
Who's the bomb nigga, quick to fill that itchy finger?
Situation of my nine-ah, who's the bigger trigger?
Approach the true G, you though I was bit easy
Now you're on your knees begging me

[Outro: Prince Ital Joe]
Let's see who feels broke-broke and who feels rich-rich?
Outlaw Immortal will never switch
Police informed that, the boy that might snitch
Dissing the Thug Life you get buried out in a ditch
New York ain't better respect Tupac?
Telling you Biggie, yes, I'm proud to be black
Jealousy some but don't act like idiot
Hanging up on the corner uno smoke off crack
Tupac got the article and that's a fact
So sure you said this and did said that
New York ain't better respect Tupac?
If you wanna dis, uno will gonna get a gunshot
Outlaw Immortal will come and attack
Radical posse, yes, we're out to play with bats
Jamaican posse, yes, we love Tupac
Warrior black yet, if you don't smoke crack
New York ain't better respect Tupac?
Telling you Biggie, I'm proud to be black
Jealousy some and wanna act like idiot
Hanging up on the corner some of them smoke crack
Tupac got the article and that's a fact
So sure said this and so sure said that
RESPECT!! to my brethren Tupac

2pac lyrics