2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
(más)
(menos)
Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 233
2pac
Pssst... psssssst... aiyyo
Are you afraid to die, or do you wanna live forever
T
2pac
Pssst... psssssst... aiyyo
Are you afraid to die, or do you wanna live forever
Tell me, which one?
They wanna bury me, I'm worried -- I'm losin my mind
Look down the barrel of my nine and my vision's blurry
Fallin to pieces, am I guilty? I pray to the Lord
but he ignores me unfortunately cause I'm guilty
Show me a miracle, I'm hopeless -- I'm chokin off
marijuana smoke, with every toke it's like I'm losin focus
Fallin to sleep while I'm at service, when will I die?
Forever paranoid and nervous because I'm high
Don't mention funerals I'm stressin, and goin nutty
And reminiscin bout them niggaz that murdered my buddy
I wonder when will I be happy, ain't nothin funny
Flashbacks of bustin caps, anything for money
Where am I goin I discovered, can't nothin save me
My next door neighbor's havin convo with undercovers
Put a surprise in the mailbox, hope she get it
Happy birthday bitch, you know you shouldn'ta did it
Everybody's dyin am I next, who can I trust?
Will they be G's, and they look at me before they bust?
Or will they kill me while I'm sleepin, two to the head
while I'm in bed, leakin blood on my satin sheets
Is there a heaven for a baller? I'm gettin suspicious
of this bitch the line busy everytime I call her
Now she's tellin me to visit, who else is home?
I check the house before I bone, so we all alone
After I nut I hit the highway, see ya later
To all the players watch the fly way a nigga played her
The bitch is tellin all her homies -- that I can fuck her
like no other now them other bitches wanna bone me
I'm under pressure gettin drunk, somebody help me
I drink a fifth of Hennesey I don't think it's healthy
I see my enemies they creepin, don't make me blast
I watch the five-oh's roll, the motherfuckers pass
by me like they know me, smilin as they laugh
I put up my middle finger then I dash
Niggaz don't like me cause I'm Thuggin, and every day
I'm a hustler lookin to get paid
They wanna bury me, I'm worried -- no need to lie
I pray to God I don't scream when it's time to fry
Nowhere to rest I'm losin homies, ain't that a bitch
When I was rich I had clout, now a nigga's lonely
I put the pistol to my head, and say a prayer
I see visions of me dead, Lord are you there?
Then tell me am I lost cause I'm lonely
I thought I had friends but in the end a nigga dies lonely
Nowhere to run I'm in terror, and no one cares
A closed casket at my funeral and no one's there
Is there a future for a killer? I change my ways
But still that don't promise me the next day
So I stay Thuggin with a passion, forever blastin
I'm bustin on these motherfuckers in my madness
They wonder if I'm hellbound... well Hell
can't be worse than this, cause I'm in Hell now
Don't make me hurt you I don't want to, but I will
Seen motherfuckers killed over phone bills
Never will I die, I'll be back
Reincarnated as a motherfuckin mack
I love it cause in heaven there's no shortage on G's
I'm tellin you now, you motherfuckers don't know me
"Only fear of death.."
"You ghetto niggaz"
"Only fear of death is comin back reincarnated"
[repeats continously w/ variations]
Hahaha, I ain't scared to die
I ain't scared to die
To my homies in heaven
I ain't scared to die
Do you wanna live forever?
Are you scared, to die?
Or will you scream, when you fry?
I don't fear death
My only fear of death is comin back, reincarnated
This is dedicated to Mental, R.I.P.
And Big Kill, R.I.P.
And all you other O.G.'s, who go down
I don't fear death
(más)
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Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 1570
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
(más)
(menos)
Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 208
|
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
(más)
(menos)
Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 201
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
(más)
(menos)
Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 285
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I
2pac
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
(más)
(menos)
Añadido: hace 2 semanas
Reproducciones: 753
|
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked
Featuring Outlawz]
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch in the clit you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
NIGGA, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll nigguz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches -- deal with it!!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin tracks
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam you in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a fuckin rocka wanna do, nigga
and, I'll smoke ya junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money, but its funny to me
All you niggaz living bummy, while you fuckin' wit me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on my couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you heards
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas cuz this ain't your area
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you aint shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene
Write a caper, like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
Nigga I hit em up
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"California Love"(feat. Dr. Dre)
California love!
[1]-California...knows how to party
"California Love"(feat. Dr. Dre)
California love!
[1]-California...knows how to party
California...knows how to party
In the citaaay of L.A.
In the citaaay of good ol' Watts
In the citaaay, the city of Compton
We keep it rockin! We keep it rockin!
Out on bail fresh outta jail, California dreamin
Soon as I stepped on the scene, I'm hearin hoochies screamin
Fiendin for money and alcohol
the life of a west side playa where cowards die
Only in Cali where we riot not rally to live and die
In L.A. we wearin Chucks not Ballies (that's right)
Dressed in Locs and khaki suits and ride is what we do
Flossin but have caution we collide with other crews
Famous cause we program worldwide
Let'em recognize from Long Beach to Rose Grands
Bumpin and grindin like a slow jam, it's west side
So you know the row won't bow down to no man
Say what you say
But give me that bomb beat from Dre
Let me serenade the streets of L.A.
From Oakland to Sacktown
The Bay Area and back down
Cali is where they put they mack down
Give me love!
[2]-Shake it shake it baby
Shake it shake it baby
Shake it shake it mama
Shake it Cali
Shake it shake it baby
Shake it shake it shake it shake it...
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Reproducciones: 627
"Ambitionz Az A Ridah"
[1] - [2Pac singing in background 2X]
I won't deny it, I'm a st
"Ambitionz Az A Ridah"
[1] - [2Pac singing in background 2X]
I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah
You don't wanna fuck with me
Got the police bustin at me
But they can't do nuttin to a G
(Let's get ready to ruuumbllle!!)
[1] - [2Pac speaking over background]
Now you know how we do it like a G
What really go on in the mind of a nigga
that get down for theirs
Constantly, money over bitches
[2] - [2Pac singing in background starts to overlap/repeat]
I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah
You don't wanna fuck with me
Got the police bustin at me
I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah
Police bustin at me
I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah / Got the police bustin at me
I won't deny it, I'm a straight ridah..
[2] - [2Pac speaking over background]
Not bitches over money
Stay on your grind nigga
My ambitions as a ridah!
My ambitions as a ridah!
[2Pac]
So many battlefield scars while driven in plush cars
This life as a rap star is nothin without heart
Was born rough and rugged, addressin the mad public
My attitude was, "Fuck it," cause motherfuckers love it
To be a soldier, must maintain composure at ease
Though life is complicated, only what you make it to be
Uhh, and my ambitions as a ridah to catch her
while she hot, and horny, go up inside her
Then I spit some game in her ear, "Go to the tele hoe"
Equipped with money and a Benz, cause bitch I'm barely broke
I'm smokin bomb-ass weed feelin crucial
From player to player, the game's tight, the feeling's mutual
From hustlin and prayers, to breakin motherfuckers to pay-up
I got no time for these bitches, cause these hoes tried to play us
I'm on a meal-ticket mission, want a mil', so I'm wishin
Competition got me ripped, on that bullshit they stressin (boo-yaa!)
I'ma rhyme though, clown hoes like it's manditory
No guts no glory my nigga bitch got the game distorted
Now it's on and it's on because I said so
Can't trust a bitch in the bidness so I got with Death Row
Now these money hungry bitches gettin suspicious
Started plottin and plannin on schemes, to come and trick us
But Thug niggaz be on point and game tight (yeah)
Me, Syke and Bogart, wrap it up the same night
Got problems then handle it, motherfuckers see me
These niggaz is jealous cause deep in they heart they wanna be me
Uhh, yeah, and now ya got me right beside ya
Hopin you listen I catch you payin attention
to my amibitions as a ridah
[Chorus: 2Pac]
[singing] I won't deny it, I'ma straight ridah
You don't wanna fuck with me
[singing] My ambitions as a ridah
[singing] Got the police bustin at me
But they can't do nuttin to a G
[Tupac]
(I won't deny it, I'ma straight ridah)
Peep it.. it was my only wish to rise
above these jealous coward mutherfuckers I despise
When it's time to ride, I was the first off this side, give me the nine
I'm ready to die right here tonight, and motherfuck they life (yeah nigga!)
That's what they screamin as they drill me, but I'm hard to kill
So open fire, I see you kill me (that's all you niggaz got?) witness my steel
Spittin at adversaries envious and after me
I'd rather die before they capture me, watch me bleed
Mama come rescue me I'm suicidal thinkin thoughts
I'm innocent, so there'll be bullets flyin when I'm caught
(Shoot!) Fuck doin jail time, better day, sacrifice
Won't get a chance to do me like they did my nigga Tyson
Thuggin for life and if you right then nigga die for it
Let them other brothers try, at least you tried for it
When it's time to die to be a man you pick the way you leave
Fuck peace and the police, my ambitions as a ridah
[Chorus]
[Tupac]
My murderous lyrics equipped with spirits of the Thugs before me
Pay off the block evade the cops cause I know they comin for me
I been hesitant to reappear, been away for years
Now I'm back my adversaries been reduced to tears
Question my methods to switch up speeds, sure as some bitches bleeds
niggaz'll feel the fire of my mother's corrupted seed
Blast me but they didn't finish, (buck buck buck buck buck)
didn't diminish my powers
so now I'm back to be a motherfuckin menace, they cowards
That's why they tried to set me up
Had bitch-ass niggaz on my team, so indeed, they wet me up
But I'm back reincarnated, incarcerated
At the time I contemplate the way that God made it
Lace em with lyrics that's legendary, musical mercenary
For money, I'll have these motherfuckers buried (I been)
gettin much mail in jail, niggaz tellin me to kill it
Knowin when I get out, they gon' feel it
Witness the realest, a whoridah when I put the shit inside
the cry from all your people when they find her
Just remind ya, my history'll prove I been it
Revenge on them niggaz that played me,
and all the cowards that was down widdit
Now it's yo' nigga right beside ya
Hopin you listenin, catch you payin attention
to my ambitions as a ridah
[Chorus 2.5X]
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