2Pac – Hit 'Em Up Lyrics | AV LYRICS

About The Song:

Hit 'Em Up song by American rapper 2Pac from the album "Death Row Greatest Hits", It was released on June 4th, 1996 in Can Am Studios (Los Angeles). 2Pac original name is Tupac Amaru Shakur & He is also known as Makaveli. This song was written by 2Pac, Dennis Lambert, Johnny J, Duane Hitchings, Franne Golde, Yafeu Fula & Malcolm Greenidge. This song was produced by Johnny "J"

Just Play Karaoke Instrumental and Sing a Song..🎶🎵



Hit 'Em Up Lyrics

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

(Take money)

We bring it too

(Take money)

First off, fuck yo' 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,

niggas 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 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 yo' ugly ass

off the streets, so fuck peace!

I'll let them niggas

know it's on for life

Don't let the Westside

ride tonight (ha 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

Nigga, I hit 'em up!

Check this out, you motherfuckers

know what time it is

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

Y'all niggas ain't even on my level

I'ma let my little 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 Moo', pass the MAC

And let me hit him in his back

Frank White needs to get

spanked right for settin' traps

Little accident murderer

And I ain't never heard of ya

Poisonous 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

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

Nigga, I hit 'em up!

Peep how we do it, keep it

real as penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle,

all you niggas 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

Niggas think they learned to fly

But they burn, motherfucker,

you deserve to die

Talkin' about you gettin'

money, but it's funny to me

All you niggas livin' bummy

— why you fuckin' with me?

I'm a self-made millionaire

Thug livin', 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

Now I'm back 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 of murders occurs

No points or commas, we

bring drama to all you herbs

Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease

I'll 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 click smoked up

What the fuck, is you stupid?

I take money, crash and

mash through Brooklyn

With my click lootin', shootin'

and pollutin' your block

With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot

Outlaw MAFIA clique

movin' up another notch

And your pop stars popped

and get mopped and dropped

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 Alize with a chaser

About to get murdered for the paper

E.D.I. Mean approach

the scene of the caper

Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke

Gun totin' smoke, we ain't

no motherfuckin' joke

Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'

We approachin' in the

wide open, gun smokin'

No need for hopin', it's a battle lost

I got 'em crossed as soon

as the funk is boppin' off

Nigga, I hit 'em up!

CREDITS BY

Album :- Death Row Greatest Hits (1996)

Produced By :- Johnny "J" (Johnny Lee Jackson)

Written By :- Tupac Shakur(2Pac), Bruce Washington, Yafeu Fula, Malcolm Greenidge, Duane Hitchings, Franne Golde, Dennis Lambert

Release Date :- June 4, 1996

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