Song von 2Pac Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is (Take money) bros, we bring it too That's 'ight, ha-ha (Take money) 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, bros fucked for life Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is 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 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 yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace I'll let them bros 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 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 (uh) bro, 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 bros ain't even on my level I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, 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 White needs to get spanked right for setting traps Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving 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 fucking block I'm running through, bro And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, bro 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 bro, we hit 'em up Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle All you bros getting killed with your mouths open Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high bros 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 bros living bummy while you fucking with me I'm a self-made millionaire Thug living, out of 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 copied my style Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled woo ya! ha ha ha! ten! four! yeeeahoow!
