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2Pac – 2pac Feat. Warren G - Still Dre (Remix)

2Pac
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исполнитель 2Pac

жанр Старая школа рэпа

длительность 03:27

размер 7.92 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено MC.Searcher

2pac Feat. Warren G - Still Dre (Remix)
03:27
Intro: Tupac I ain't got no motherf*ckin friends That's why I f*cked yo' bitch, you fat motherf*cker (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, f*ck your bitch and the click you claim WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE when we ride come equipped with game You claim to be a player but I f*cked your wife We bust on Bad Boy niggaz f*cked 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 f*ck around with real G's Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha street, so f*ck 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 f*ck 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 muthaf*ckas 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 f*ckin 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 muthaf*cka, you deserve to die Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me all you niggaz livin bummy why you're f*ckin 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 Motherf*cker, 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 f*ck 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 muthaf*ckin 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 f*ck 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 f*ck with us? You little young ass motherf*ckers Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin? You f*ckin with me nigga you f*ck around and have a seizure or a heart-attack You better back the f*ck up, fore you get smacked the f*ck 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 f*ck you and your motherf*ckin mama We gonna kill all you motherf*ckers Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherf*ckin opinion Well this how we gonna do this f*ck Mobb Deep f*ck Biggie f*ck Bad Boy as a staff record label and as a motherf*ckin crew And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy Then f*ck you too Chino XL, f*ck you too All you motherf*ckers, f*ck you too (take money) (take money) Alla y'all motherf*ckers, f*ck you die slow motherf*cker My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow You motherf*ckers can't be us or see us We the motherf*ckin Thug Life ridahs WEESSSSSSIIIIIDE till we die! Out here in California we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherf*ckers We do our job You think you mob, nigga we the motherf*ckin mob Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggaz All you motherf*ckers feel us Our shit's going triple and four-quadruple (take money) You niggaz laugh coz our staff got guns at they motherf*ckers belt, you know how it is When we drop records they felt You niggaz can't feel it We the realest, f*ck EM, we Bad Boy killaz!
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