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From : GeorgeNoah92
Added: Nov 3, 2009
First off, fuck your bitch And the click 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 Boys niggas fuck for Life Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak Hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia Some mark ass bitches We keep on coming While we running for your jewels Steady gunning Keep on busting at them fools You know the rules Little Ceasar go ask you homie How I'll leave you Cut your young ass up See you in pieces Now be deceased Little Kim, Don't fuck around with real G's Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets So fuck peace I'll let them niggas know It's on for Life Don't let the west side Ride the night (ha ha) Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill fuck with me And get your caps peeled You know, see [Chorus:] Grab your glocks when you see 2pac Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh Who shot me, But your punks didn't finish Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace nigga, I hit 'em up Check this out You motherfuckers know what time it is I don't know why I'm even on this track You all niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my little homies Ride on you bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches {ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up} Get out the way yo Get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got dropped Little move pass the mac And let me hit 'em in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right For setting up traps Little accident murderers And I ain't never heard of you Poise less gats attack when I'm serving you Spank the shank Your whole style when I gank Guard your rank 'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm running through nigga And I'm smoking 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 ever hour I hit 'em up [Chorus] Peep how we do it Keep it real Its penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you niggas getting killed With your mouths open Tryin' to come up off of me You and the clouds hoping Smoking dope It's like a Shermine niggas think they learned to fly But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die Talking about you Getting Money But it's funny to me All you niggas living bummy While you fucking with me? I'm a self made Millionaire Thug livin', out of prison Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha) Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch And beg the 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 A-K I'm still the thug that you love to hate Mother-fucker I'll Hit 'Em Up I'm from N E W Jers. Where plenty of murder occurs No points to come We bring drama to all you herds Now go check the scenario Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your knees Copin' pleas with these 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 looting, shooting, and polluting your block With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped And all your fake ass east coast props Brainstormed and locked You're a beat biter Pac style taker I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker So fill the Alize with a chaser 'bout to get murdered for the paper E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh) Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke Thug Life, niggas better be known Be approaching In the wide open, gun smoking No need for hoping It's a battle lost I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off nigga, I hit 'em up
Category : Music

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