Hit 'Em Up (feat. Outlawz)

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka-ass)

That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucka

(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas

(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is

(Take money) niggas, we bring it too

That's a'ight

(Take money)

First off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim

Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game

You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife

We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life

Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smalls and Junior MAFIA some mark-ass bitches

We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels

Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools

You know the rules

Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya

Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased

Lil' Kim, don't fuck around with real Gs

Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets

So fuck, peace

I'll let them niggas know it's on for life

Don't let the Westside ride tonight

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled

You know, see

Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh

Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish

Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Nigga, I hit 'em up (yeah)

Check this out (take money)

You motherfuckers know what time it is

I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)

Y'all niggas ain't even on my level

I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass (take money)

Bad Boy bitches, feel it (take money)

Get out the way, yo

Get out the way, yo

Biggie Smalls just got dropped

Little Mu', pass the MAC

And let me hit him in his back

Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps

Little accident murderer and I ain't never heard of ya

Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya

Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank

Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint

Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga

And I'm smokin' Junior MAFIA in front of you, nigga

With the ready power tucked in my Guess, under my Eddie Bauer

Your clout petty, sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up

Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh

Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish

Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace

Nigga, we hit 'em up

Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle

All you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open

Tryna come up off of me? You in the clouds hopin'

Smokin' dope, it's like a Sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly

But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die

Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me

All you niggas livin' bummy, why you fuckin' with me?

I'm a self-made millionaire

Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air

Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch

And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?

Now it's all about Versace

You copied my style

Five shots couldn't drop me

I took it and smiled

Now I'm back to set the record straight

With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate

Motherfucker, I hit 'em up

I'm from N-E-W Jers', where plenty of murders occurs

No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs

Now go check the scenario

Little Cease, I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro

Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?

Get your little 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' your block

With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot

Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch

And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped

All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked

You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker

I'll tell you to your face: You ain't shit but a faker

Softer than Alizé with a chaser

About to get murdered for the paper

EDI mean approach the scene of the caper

Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke

Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke

Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'

We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'

No need for hopin', it's a battle lost

I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off

Nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won

I see them, they run

They don't wanna see us (take money)

Whole Junior MAFIA clique dressin' up, tryna be us (take money)

How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires (take money)

Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)

Oh, yeah, Mobb Deep, huh

You wanna fuck with us? (Take money)

You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)

Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)

You're fuckin' with me, nigga

You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)

You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up

This is how we do it on our side

Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it

But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama

Fuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama

We gon' kill all you motherfuckers

Now, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie

Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion

Well, this is how we gonna do this

Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie

Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfuckin' crew

And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too

Chino XL, fuck you too

All you motherfuckers, fuck you too (take money, take money)

All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow, motherfucker

My 44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow

You motherfuckers can't be us or see us

We motherfuckin' Thug Life ridas, Westside till we die

Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya

We'll bomb on you motherfuckers, we do our job

You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob

Ain't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us

Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple (take money)

You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckas belts

You know how it is: When we drop records, they felt

You niggas can't feel it, we the realest

Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killas