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10 years назад
LyricsI ain't got no motherfucking friendsThat's why I fucked your bitch you fat motherfuckerWest Side, Bad Boy killersYou know who the realest isWe bring it tooFirst off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claimWestside when we ride, come equipped with gameYou claim to be a player but I fucked your wifeWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for lifePlus Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I ripBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark-ass bitchesWe keep on coming while we running for your jewelsSteady gunning, keep on busting at them foolsYou know the rulesLil' Cesar go ask you homie how I'll leave youCut your young ass up, leave you in piecesNow be deceasedLittle Kim, don't fuck around with real G'sQuick to snatch your ugly ass off the streetsSo fuck peaceI'll let them niggas know it's on for lifeDon't let the Westside ride the nightBad Boys murdered on wax and killedFuck with me and get your caps peeledYou know.Grab your Glocks when you see 2pacCall the cops when you see 2PacWho shot me, but your punks didn't finishNow you about to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga I hit em up !Check this outYou motherfuckers know what time it isI don't know why I'm even on this trackYou all niggas ain't even on my levelI'm going to let my little homiesRide on you bitch-made ass Bad Boys bitches.Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yoBiggie Smalls just got droppedLittle Moo' pass the MacAnd let me hit em in his backFrank White needs to get spanked rightFor setting trapsLittle accident-murdererAnd I ain't never heard of youPoisonous gats attack when I'm serving youSpank you, shank your whole style when I gankGuard your rank, cause I'm a slam your ass in the paintPuffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm running through, niggaAnd I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, niggaWith the ready-power tucked in my GuessUnder my Eddie BauerYour clout petty/sourI push packages every hour, I hit em up.Grab your Glocks when you see 2pacCall the cops when you see 2PacWho shot me, but your punks didn't finishNow you about to feel the wrath of a menaceNigga I hit em up !Peep how we do itKeep it real as penitentiary steelThis ain't no freestyle battleAll you niggas getting killed with your mouths openTrying to come up off of me, you in the clouds hopingSmoking dope, it's like a sherm highNiggas think they learned to flyBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to dieTalking about you getting moneyBut it's funny to meAll you niggas living bummyWhy you fucking with me?I'm a self-made millionaire!Thug livin', out of prisonPistols in the airBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couchAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style5 shots couldn't drop me: I took it and smiledNow I'm back to set the record straightWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hateMotherfucker I'll hit em up !I'm from N-E-W Jers'Where plenty of murders occursNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbsNow go check the scenario: Lil' CeaseI'll bring you fake G's to your kneesCopping pleas in de JaneiroLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked upWhat the fuck, is you stupid?I take money, crash and mash through BrooklynWith my click looting, shooting and polluting your blockWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knotOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notchAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and droppedAnd all your fake ass East coast propsBrainstormed and locked.You's a beat biterA Pac style takerI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a fakerSofter than Alize with a chaserAbout to get murdered for the paperE.D.I Amin approach the scene of the caperLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a chokeGun totin' smoke. We ain't no motherfucking jokeThug Life, niggas better be knownBe approaching in the wide open, gun smokingNo need for hoping, it's a battle lostI got em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping offNigga, I hit em up !Now you tell me who wonI see them, they runThey don't wanna see usWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up trying to be usHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?We millionaires, killing ain't fair but somebody got to do itOh yeah, Mobb Deep: you wanna fuck with usYou little young-ass motherfuckersDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethingYou're fucking with me, niggaYou fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart attackYou better back the fuck upBefore you get smacked the fuck upThis is how we do it on our sideAny of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, bring itBut we ain't singing, we bringing dramaFuck you and your motherfucking mamaWe're gonna kill all you motherfuckersNow when I came out, I told you it was just about BiggieThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinionWell this is how we gonna do thisFuck Mobb Deep, fuck BiggieFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfucking crewAnd if you want to be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you tooChino XL: fuck you tooAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too (Take money, take money)All of y'all mother fuckers, fuck you, die slow, motherfuckerMy .44 make sure all y'all kids don't growYou motherfuckers can't be us or see usWe motherfuckin' Thug Life-ridersWestside til we dieOut here in California, nigga, we warned yaWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers. We do our jobYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mobAin't nothing but killers and the real niggasAll you motherfuckers feel usOur shit goes triple and 4-quadrupleYou niggas laugh cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckin' beltsYou know how it is, when we drop records they feltYou niggas can't feel it, we the realestFuck em, we Bad Boy-killers !