Hit 'Em Up (feat. Outlawz)

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (Sucka ass)

That's why I fucked your bitch, you fat motherfucker

Westside, Bad Boy killers, you know

You know who the realest is, ****, we bring it to you (That's right, ha ha)

First off, fuck your 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, **** fucked for life

Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip

Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. 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 G's

Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace

I let them **** know it's on for life

Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha ha

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

Fuck with me and get your caps peeled, you know, see

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

****, I hit 'em up

Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is

I don't even know why I'm on this track

Y'all **** ain't even on my level

I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch made ass Bad Boy bitches (Hey, yo, yo, hold the fuck up, yo)

Feel it

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 Wright need to get spanked right for settin' traps

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

Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya

Spank and shank your 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, ****

And I'll smoke a Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, ****

With the ready power, tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer

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

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

****, we hit 'em up

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

This ain't no freestyle battle, all you **** 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, **** think they learned to fly

But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die

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

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

I'm a self-made millionaire

Thug livin', outta prison, pistols in the air, ha ha

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 copy 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 that you love to hate

Motherfucker, I hit 'em up

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

No points in common, we bring the drama to all you herbs

Now go check the scenario

Little Ceas', I 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 clique smoked up

What the fuck, is you stupid?

I take money, crashin' and mashin' through Brooklyn

Where my clique lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block

With fifteen shot, cocked Glock to your knot

Outlaw Mafia clique movin' up another notch

And your box top spots get mopped and dropped

And 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

'Bout to get murdered for the paper

E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper

Like a loc, with Lil' Caesar in a choke

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

Thug life, **** better be knowin'

We approachin' in the wide open, guns smokin'

No need for hopin' it's a battle lost

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

****, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won

I see them, they run, ha ha

They don't wanna see us

Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up, tryna be us

How the fuck they gon' be the mob when we always on our job?

We millionaires, killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it

Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?

You lil' young ass motherfuckers

Don't one of you **** got sickle cell or somethin'?

You fuckin' with me, ****, you fuck around an have a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the fuck up 'fore you get smacked the fuck up

This how we do it on our side

Any of you **** from New York who wanna bring it, bring it

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

Fuck you and your 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 they mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion

Well, this how we gon' 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

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

My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow

You motherfuckers can't be us or see us

We motherfuckin' thug life riders, Westside till we die

Out here in California, ****, we warn ya

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

You think you mob, ****, we the motherfuckin' mob

Ain't nothin' but killers and the real ****

All you motherfuckers feel us

Our shits go triple and four quadruple

You **** laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfucker's belts

You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt

You **** can't feel it, we the realest

Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers