November 1, 2012 § Leave a comment

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
Nigga, I hit ’em up

[…]

Peep how we do it
Keep it real
It’s 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 in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It’s like a Sherm high, 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 (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
Motherfucker, I’ll hit ’em up

2pac – ‘Hit ‘Em Up’

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