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    PLAY

    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

    Outro: Tupac
    Now you tell me who won
    I see them, they run
    They don't wanna see us
    Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
    How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
    We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
    Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?
    You little young ass motherfuckers
    Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
    You fuckin with me nigga you fuck around
    and have a seizure or a heart-attack
    You better back the fuck up, fore you get smacked the fuck up
    That's how we do it on our side
    Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring it
    But we ain't singin, we bringin drama
    Fuck you and your motherfuckin mama
    We gonna 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 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)

    Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker
    My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow
    You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
    We the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
    Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers
    We do our job
    You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mob
    Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggaz
    All you motherfuckers feel us
    Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple

    (take money)

    You niggaz blast as our staff got guns at they
    motherfuckers back, you know how it is
    When we drop records they feel it
    You niggaz can't feel it
    We the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes

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