[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 who the realest is niggaz (take money) We bring it to you (take money)
[Verse One: Tupac] First off, fuck your bitch and the click 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 Boy niggaz fucked for life Plus Puffy tryin ta 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 yo' jewels Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules Lil' 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 the streets, so fuck peace I let them niggaz know it's on for life So let the Westside ride tonight - hahahah Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed Fuck wit' me and get yo' 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 motherfuckers know what time it is I don't even know why I'm on this track Y'all niggaz 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 Smalls 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 traps Little accident murderers, and I ain't never heard-a ya Poisinous 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 M.A.F.I.A. in front of you nigga With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer Ya clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up
[Verse Three: Tupac] Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel this ain't no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin killed with ya mouths open Tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin Smokin dope it's like a sherm high niggaz 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 niggaz livin bummy why you fuckin with me? I'm a self made millionare Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, haha Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch and beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house, hah 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 that you love to hate Motherfucker, I hit 'em up
[Verse Four] I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occurs No points in common, we bringin drama to all you herbs Knuckle check the scenario, Lil' Cease I bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin pleas you Degenario Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up? Get ya lil' Jr. 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 your box top spots get mopped and dropped and all your fake-ass East coast props brainstormed and locked
[Verse Five] Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker I'll tell you to ya face you ain't shit but a faker Softer than Alize with a chaser Bout to get murdered for the paper Edi Amin approach the scene of the caper, like a loc With Lil' Ceaser in a choke, huh totin smoke We ain't no motherfuckin joke Thug Life niggaz better be knowin We approchin, in the wide open, guns smokin No need for hopin it's a battle lost, I got 'em crossed As 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 Hehehehe, they don't wanna see us Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin to 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, 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 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
(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 Westside till we die! Out here in California nigga 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 goin triple and four-quadruple (take money)
You niggaz laugh cause our staff got, guns in they motherfuckers belts You know how it is when we drop records they felt You niggaz can't feel it, we the realest FUCK 'EM, we Bad Boy killin *echoes*