2004-12-07, 11:40
#2
Citat:
"Fake Ass Bitches"
[little kid] Tell me about these fake ass bitches
[2Pac]
Look here little nigga
Most of these niggaz be bitches too
but you'll never hear that side of the story
So uhh, we finna do this shit like this
It's like I tell my niggaz, keep your eyes on these bitches
They love to G a nigga young dumb and gettin riches
What the fuck you think a trick is nigga
Nigga done stick and wet his dick
and then get tricked out all his riches by a -- BITCH!
I'm here to school you to the rules of the game, it'll cost ya
Think you alla that just cause she let a nigga toss her
It's like a motherfuckin priveledge
So don't give up your conversation, give that bitch your 7 digits
When she call ya, ask that tramp whassup
And if she hesitate, nigga hang up, worrrd up
And let that bitch meditate to the dial tone
And call me when you're ready to bone, and it's on
A motherfucking mack tonight
Stay that stay strapped cause my raps is tight
You fuckin punks, I hate you snitches
Went against the grain and the game to be fake ass bitches
(God, damn! You can't just hit them niggaz with that game
and expect them to accept it; girl your heard me it gets skanless.
But we gonna kick this shit like this here)
[Chorus: 2Pac]
I can't stand fake ass bitches
Lyin ass niggaz and you punk ass snitches
[repeat 2X]
Time to show these bustas who's boss
Run up on a real motherfucker and get tossed
The game is deep, and thicker than a motherfuckin jimmy
Broke hoes runnin round yellin "Gimme!"
I can't stand it, hoes talkin bout they got a man
Shit all I wanted her to do is suck my DICK
So how about hittin a motherfucker on my pager
Busy now bitch but you can give me the pussy later
Fly how I fade her, played her like a game of Sega
Fuckin with the player that done made her, huh
And I ain't sleepin caught you creepin for my money
Got the dick and now you get the pistol honey (bitch)
So get the bozack, knockin hoes back, keep my dough stacked
So where the motherfuckin hoes at?
Punk niggaz can't fade the mack, livin fat
Gettin paid to rap, it's like that, you motherfuckin bitches
Yeah, yeah that's my motto
She educated a whole bunch of you old raggedy-ass niggaz
So y'all take that shit back to y'all camp and uhh
you sleep on that there, it's like
[Chorus 2X]
Oh you too nigga, don't think we ain't talkin bout your punk ass
You old fake ass nigga
Standin there wearin all them Pendletons and khakis and all that
You soft as a motherfuckin grape
Ain't this a motherfuckin bitch
I can see right through your flower ass
Some of these niggaz is bitches too, man I tell ya
It's gonna be harder and harder to be a Thug in ninety-fo'
but we gonna do this shit
Y'all take this shit and you play this shit for every single
fake ass bitch out there
And there's plenty of em
You probably got one sittin next to you right now
Bobbin his fake ass head to this, dope ass shit that he listenin to
Fake ass motherfuckin bitch, die in ninety-four
[little kid] Tell me about these fake ass bitches
[2Pac]
Look here little nigga
Most of these niggaz be bitches too
but you'll never hear that side of the story
So uhh, we finna do this shit like this
It's like I tell my niggaz, keep your eyes on these bitches
They love to G a nigga young dumb and gettin riches
What the fuck you think a trick is nigga
Nigga done stick and wet his dick
and then get tricked out all his riches by a -- BITCH!
I'm here to school you to the rules of the game, it'll cost ya
Think you alla that just cause she let a nigga toss her
It's like a motherfuckin priveledge
So don't give up your conversation, give that bitch your 7 digits
When she call ya, ask that tramp whassup
And if she hesitate, nigga hang up, worrrd up
And let that bitch meditate to the dial tone
And call me when you're ready to bone, and it's on
A motherfucking mack tonight
Stay that stay strapped cause my raps is tight
You fuckin punks, I hate you snitches
Went against the grain and the game to be fake ass bitches
(God, damn! You can't just hit them niggaz with that game
and expect them to accept it; girl your heard me it gets skanless.
But we gonna kick this shit like this here)
[Chorus: 2Pac]
I can't stand fake ass bitches
Lyin ass niggaz and you punk ass snitches
[repeat 2X]
Time to show these bustas who's boss
Run up on a real motherfucker and get tossed
The game is deep, and thicker than a motherfuckin jimmy
Broke hoes runnin round yellin "Gimme!"
I can't stand it, hoes talkin bout they got a man
Shit all I wanted her to do is suck my DICK
So how about hittin a motherfucker on my pager
Busy now bitch but you can give me the pussy later
Fly how I fade her, played her like a game of Sega
Fuckin with the player that done made her, huh
And I ain't sleepin caught you creepin for my money
Got the dick and now you get the pistol honey (bitch)
So get the bozack, knockin hoes back, keep my dough stacked
So where the motherfuckin hoes at?
Punk niggaz can't fade the mack, livin fat
Gettin paid to rap, it's like that, you motherfuckin bitches
Yeah, yeah that's my motto
She educated a whole bunch of you old raggedy-ass niggaz
So y'all take that shit back to y'all camp and uhh
you sleep on that there, it's like
[Chorus 2X]
Oh you too nigga, don't think we ain't talkin bout your punk ass
You old fake ass nigga
Standin there wearin all them Pendletons and khakis and all that
You soft as a motherfuckin grape
Ain't this a motherfuckin bitch
I can see right through your flower ass
Some of these niggaz is bitches too, man I tell ya
It's gonna be harder and harder to be a Thug in ninety-fo'
but we gonna do this shit
Y'all take this shit and you play this shit for every single
fake ass bitch out there
And there's plenty of em
You probably got one sittin next to you right now
Bobbin his fake ass head to this, dope ass shit that he listenin to
Fake ass motherfuckin bitch, die in ninety-four
Jag blir alldeles tårögd av denna prosa. Vilken talang, vilket artisteri! Att lyckas klämma in 16 nigga i en enda sång det är banne mig stort.
Men ge Eminem tid, han ska bara gå och dö först så man kan höja hans värdelösa skit till musik till skyarna också.
2004-12-07, 12:08
#4
2004-12-07, 15:15
#8
2004-12-07, 15:21
#9
2004-12-07, 15:51
#10
2004-12-07, 16:07
#11
Visserligen har Tupad en del rätt seriösa texter (Changes t.ex) men han har ju även hip-hopens genom historien klockrenaste text - texten till Hit 'em up.
Detta blir väl ganska långt, men-men. All fet text är de fraser jag tycker är bäst
Poesi på hög nivå, eller hur var det?
Detta blir väl ganska långt, men-men. All fet text är de fraser jag tycker är bäst
Citat:
Ursprungligen postat av Tupac
Intro: Tupac
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE!!
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 and the click you claim
WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE 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 (haha)
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: Fatal
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 push 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 livin bummy why you're fuckin with 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: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas to 'De Janeiro'
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 Five: Edi
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 WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE 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 laugh coz our staff got guns at they
motherfuckers belt, 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 killaz!
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE!!
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 and the click you claim
WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE 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 (haha)
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: Fatal
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 push 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 livin bummy why you're fuckin with 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: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas to 'De Janeiro'
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 Five: Edi
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 WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE 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 laugh coz our staff got guns at they
motherfuckers belt, 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 killaz!
Poesi på hög nivå, eller hur var det?
2004-12-07, 16:10
#12
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