So I f*cked your [bad word] 
 You fat mutha-f*cka {take money}
 West side
 Bad boy killers {take money}
 You know who the realist is
 Niggas we bring it to {take money}

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
 First off, f*ck your [bad word] 
 And the click you claim
 West side when we ride
 [bad word] equipped with game
 You claim to be a playa
 But, I f*cked your wife
 We bust on bad boys
 Niggas f*ck for life
 Plus puffy tryin' to see me weak
 Hearts I rip
 Biggie smalls and junior mafia
 Some mark [bad word] [bad word] 
 We keep [bad word] 
 While [bad word] for yah jewels
 Steady gunning
 Keep on busting at them fools
 You know [bad word] 
 Little ceasar go ask you homie
 How I'll leave yah
 Cut your young [bad word] up
 See yah in pieces
 Now be deceased
 Little kim,
 Don't f*ck with real [bad word] g's
 Quick to snatch your ugly [bad word]  off the streets
 So f*ck peace
 I'll let them niggas know
 It's on for life
 Don't let the west side
 Ride the night [ha ha]
 Bad boys murdered on wax and kill
 f*ck with me
 And get your caps peeled
 You know, see

 [bad word]  2Pac]
 Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
 Call the cops when you see 2pac, uhh
 Who shot me,
 But, your punks didn't finish
 Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
 [bad word]  I hit 'em up

[Interlude: 2Pac]
 Check this out
 You mutha-f*ckas 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'm going to let my little homies
 Ride on yah
 [bad word] made [bad word] bad boys [bad word] 
 [ahh yo, yo, hold the f*ck up]

[Verse 1: Outlawz]
 Get out the way yo
 Get out the way yo
 Biggie smalls just got dropped
 Little move pass the mac
 And let me hit 'em in his back
 Frank white needs to get spanked right
 For setting up traps
 Little accident murderers
 And I ain't never heard of yah
 Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah
 Spank the shank
 Your whole style when I gank
 Gaurd your rank
 Cause I'm a slam your [bad word] in a pang
 Puffy weaker than a f*ckin' block
 [bad word] through [bad word] 
 And I'm smoking junior mafia
 In front of yah [bad word] 
 With the ready power
 Tucked in my guess
 Under my eddie bower
 Your clout petty sour
 I push packages ever hour
 I hit 'em up

 [bad word]  2Pac]
 Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
 Call the cops when you see 2pac, uhh
 Who shot me,
 But, your punks didn't finish
 Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
 [bad word]  we hit 'em up

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
 Peep how we do it
 Keep it real
 Its penitentary steel
 This ain't no freestyle battle
 All you niggas getting killed
 With your mouths open
 Tryin' [bad word] up off of me
 You and the clouds hoping
 Smoking dope
 It's like a shermine
 Niggas think they learned to fly
 But they burn mutha-f*cka you deserve to die
 Talking about you getting money
 But it's funny to me
 All you niggas living bummy
 While you f*cking with me?
 I'm a self made millioniare
 Thug livin', out of prison
 Pistols in the air {air} [ha ha]
 Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
 And beg the [bad word] to let you sleep on 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
 Mutha-f*cka I'll hit 'em up

[Verse 4: Outlawz]
 I'm from n e w jers.
 Where plenty of murders occurs
 No points [bad word] 
 We bring drama to all you herds
 Now go check the scenerio
 Little ceas'
 I'll bring you fake g's to yah knees
 Copin' pleas with these [? ? ? ]
 Little kim is yah
 Coked up or doped up
 Get your little junior whopper click smoked up
 What the f*ck?
 Is you stupid?
 I take money,
 Crash and mash through brooklyn
 With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
 With fifteen shot,
 [bad word] glock to your knot
 Outlaw mafia click moving up another knotch
 And your [? pop stars pops? ] and get dropped and mopped
 And all your fake [bad word] east coast props
 Brainstormed and locked

[Verse 5: Outlawz]
 You's a b-writer
 Pac style taker
 I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing [bad word] but a faker
 Soften the alize with a chaser
 Bout to get murdered for the paper
 Idi amin approach the scene of the caper
 Like a loc, with little ceas' in a choke [uhh]
 Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-f*ckin' joke
 Thug life, niggas better be known
 Be approaching
 In the wide open, gun smoking
 No need for hoping
 It's a battle lost
 I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping off
 [bad word]  I hit 'em up

[Epilogue: 2Pac]
 Now you tell me who won
 I see them, [bad word] [ha ha]
 They don't wanna see us
 Whole junior mafia click
 Dressing up to be us
 How the f*ck they gonna be the mob?
 When we always on out job
 We millionaire's
 Killing ain't fair
 But somebody got to do it

Oh yah mobb deep [uhh]
 You wanna f*ck with us
 You little young [bad word] mutha-f*ckas
 Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
 You f*cking with me, [bad word] ?
 You f*ck around and catch a siezure or a heart-attack
 You better back the f*ck up
 Before you get smacked the f*ck up
 This is how we do it on our side
 Any of you niggas from new york that want to bring it,
 Bring it.
 But we ain't singing,
 We bringing drama
 f*ck you and your mother f*cking mama.
 We gonna kill all you mother f*ckers.

Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
 Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother f*ckin opinion
 Well this is how we gon' do this:
 f*ck mobb deep,
 f*ck biggie,
 f*ck bad boy as a staff, record label,
 And as a mother f*ckin crew.
 And if you want to be down with bad boy,
 Then f*ck you too.
 Chino xl, f*ck you too.
 All you mother f*ckers,
 f*ck you too.
 (take money, take money)
 All of y'all mother f*ckers,
 f*ck you, die slow mother f*cker.
 My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow.
 You mother f*ckers can't be us or see us.
 We mother f*ckin' thug life riders.
 West side till' we die.
 Out here in california, [bad word] 
 We warned ya'
 We'll bomb on you mother f*ckers.
 We do our job.
 You think you the mob, [bad word]  we the mother f*ckin' mob
 Ain't nuttin' but killers
 And the real niggas, all you mother f*ckers feel us.
 Our [bad word] goes triple and four [bad word] 
 You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother f*ckin' belts
 You know how it is and we drop records they felt
 You niggas can't feel it
 We the realist
 f*ck 'em.
 We bad boy killas.
 [bad word] /www.lyrics.uz/publ/0_9/2pac/hit_39_em_up/84-1-0-926